Pip lifted off from the tall grass and flew across the meadow. His wings beat fast. Everything looked beautiful, but it did not feel like home.
Pip landed softly among wildflowers. A yellow butterfly buzzed past and fluttered higher into the blue sky. He watched it go and looked down at his scuffed little feet on the warm petals.
Pip hopped along the stem of the old oak tree and peeked into a hollow. Something tiny scuttled away and disappeared into a dark crack. Pip tucked his wings tight around himself and flew back into the open meadow.
Pip spotted something red and black moving through the clover near the base of the oak. It was a beetle, and she turned to look at him with bright shiny eyes and waved one claw in a big greeting.
Pip dropped the twig he was carrying. His beak opened wide.
Pip and Fern flew down to the grass together. They gathered twigs, leaves, and soft moss from the sunny meadow.
They weaved and tucked and layered until a perfect little nest sat snug in the crook of the old oak branch.
Pip curled up inside and rested his head on his feathers. Fern hummed a quiet buzzing song.
The old oak tree stood tall in the meadow. Its branches reached out over the wildflowers and the tall grass.
Days passed. Pip flew over the meadow, and always the old oak was there waiting.
Pip and Fern built the nest again, together. When it was done, Pip felt like it was finally home.
At last, Pip curled up inside the nest. This was home.