Pip pressed his nose against the wooden fence. The grass on the other side shivered in the wind and smelled like warm honey.
He had never been through — but today, his paw found a gap just wide enough.
Pip squeezed through and stepped into the tall grass. A blade tickled his ear. He giggled.
The grass parted like a curtain as he walked. Pip's eyes grew wide at all the green.
A dandelion fluff bobbed in the breeze. Pip blew — whoosh! — and the fluff lifted him into the air.
Three giant hops later, he landed with a soft thump in a bed of clover.
A butterfly with wings like stained glass settled on his head. Pip held very still.
The butterfly fluttered forward. Pip chased it — bounding, skidding, leaping — through the golden meadow.
They tumbled together into a sun-warmed pile of hay. Pip tumbled with a happy squeak.
Pip lay in the hay, belly full of sun. The meadow hummed around him.
He thought about coming back tomorrow. Tonight, the golden grass rocked him to sleep.
The meadow grew quiet. Stars appeared above, and Pip dreamed of tomorrow's adventures.