The sky turned the color of bruised plums. The wise old boat builder paused in his workshop and listened.
He dropped his hammer and grabbed the old blueprint. His boots sank deep into the soft mud as he hurried toward the riverbank. Plop.
Two ducklings arrived with quacks like squeaky hinges. He scooped them onto a wooden plank. They waddled in a neat little line behind him.
A grumpy badger and his twin snuffled at the boat's edge. He offered a basket of river reeds. Sneeze! Sneeze! They tumbled aboard together.
Rain drummed a steady rhythm on the wooden hull. The river climbed and lifted the boat with a deep groan. He stepped back and watched the old dock disappear.
The rain slowed. A warm patch of sunlight touched his cheek. He looked up — and his breath caught.
A rainbow curled its golden end right into the water beside the boat. He reached out slowly.
A single feather drifted down — red, orange, green, and blue — and landed softly in his open hand.
The badgers curled up at the far end of the boat. The ducklings tucked their heads beneath their wings. Everything was calm.
He held the feather close and whispered, 'We are ready.' The boat drifted forward, into the green valley and beyond.
