Pippin the little fox pushed through the ferns into the moonlit clearing. A twig snapped behind him. He froze, ears twitching.
He crept forward, ears swiveling at every snap and whisper. A shadow darted across the path. Pippin yelped and leapt onto the big mushroom.
It was only a hare, thumping its foot in annoyance. Pippin's ears perked up. 'Oh,' he whispered.
Pippin turned to go back, but a soft hoot echoed from above. An owl glided down from the branches.
The owl landed on a low branch with a soft thump. Pippin's ears flattened. The owl blinked slowly.
Pippin sat down, trembling. The forest had grown too dark to see his own paws. He squeezed his eyes shut.
But a single star pierced the canopy. A cascade of silver light spilled across the moss. Pippin opened his eyes.
A firefly drifted down and landed on his nose. He sneezed. The starlight shimmered brighter.
Pippin stood tall and brushed moss from his chest. He trotted back toward the edge of the forest, tail held high.
The moon followed him all the way home. His steps were steady now, and his ears were perked.