Each evening, Nana Kay places three shallow dishes along the garden path.
Hedgehogs emerge from the hedgerow. Snuffling fills the air as she watches with a satisfied smile.
The next morning, the dishes are completely full.
She peeks behind the shed. Looks under the rose bush. 'Hello?' Only the wind rustles the leaves.
She walks down the lane past the post box and checks behind the old mill.
She brushes aside brambles and gasps — a tiny hedgehog house, built of moss, twigs, and shiny bottle caps, with all her hedgehogs curled up inside.
She carries the little house back. The hedgehogs tumble after her like a trail of spiky breadcrumbs.
She sets it down among the wildflowers. They crawl inside at once.
That night, the garden fills with happy snuffling sounds again.
Nana Kay sits on her step and watches the hedgehog house. The cream dishes are empty once more.