Every evening, when the sun dipped below the oak branches, the little owl dove under his leaf blanket.
Forest sounds made him press deeper into the twigs. A rustle. A distant hoot. He pulled the blanket higher.
Then — a tiny golden pulse tapped against the windowpane. A firefly hovered upside-down, spinning in worried circles.
"I can't find my way home," she buzzed. Ollie unfolded himself stiffly and crept to the branch beyond his nest.
Every time she dipped behind a shadow, her light dimmed. Ollie spread his wings. Her glow brightened right back up.
They glided down to a dark gap between two old roots. The firefly's sparkle sputtered into a faint wavering dot.
The firefly bumped gently against his talon — warm, insistent. Ollie took one slow step into the blackness, then another.
A soft green glow appeared above — the firefly had climbed a mushroom cap and was shining like a tiny night-lamp. "Hoo-hoo!" said Ollie happily. They walked side by side through the quiet forest.