Pip's stuffed acorn tumbled out of his burrow and rolled into the dark forest. He pressed his nose to the entrance and listened. A twig snapped somewhere in the shadows.
His prickles stood straight up. He thought: I have to get it back. Pip squeezed through the burrow entrance one paw at a time.
The forest was full of bumps and roots. Every leaf crunch sounded enormous. Something blue fluttered past his ear.
The glow landed on a toadstool. It was a tiny beetle with shimmering wings, like a piece of moonlight that had learned to fly.
The beetle crawled onto his nearest quill. It was warm and almost weightless. Pip blinked slowly.
Pip reached the stuffed acorn and hugged it close. The beetle took off again, darting up into the branches above.
The beetle's glow lit up the whole clearing. Silver leaves, sleeping birds, quiet things Pip had never noticed before.
Pip followed the light deeper into the forest. The darkness no longer felt scary. It felt like a secret.
He found a patch of clover and sat down. The beetle landed on a stone nearby and kept glowing. Pip rested his chin on his paws.
Pip climbed back into his burrow with the acorn. He left the entrance open so the moonlight could find its way inside.
Moonlight pooled on the ground inside. Pip curled up beside it, the acorn resting against his belly. His breathing slowed.
The beetle glowed softly on its stone. Pip's prickles lay flat and still. Somewhere outside, an owl called once, then silence.
