The map in his teeth began to hum. The big red X pulsed with a soft gold light he had never seen before. He flung himself into the air and landed with a wet plop on the mossy bank. The X blinked once, twice, then pointed straight toward the dark trees of the Whispering Forest.
He followed the glowing X past ticklish ferns and over a creaking fallen log. The X stopped at a knotted stump. He peeked inside — only a single shiny pebble stared back. He dropped it, flicked water off his nose, and unfolded the map again. The X had dimmed.
A hush fell over the forest. Then a thousand fireflies bloomed from the branches like stars falling to earth. They swirled around him in a slow golden circle. The map grew warm in his hands. The red X blazed brighter than anything he had ever seen, tracing a brand-new line into the deepest part of the forest.
He hopped after the glowing trail until he reached a place where no path had ever been. A circle of white mushrooms surrounded a pool of water so still it looked like glass. The fireflies hovered above the surface. The water began to shimmer with colors: silver, gold, violet — as though the sky had fallen into the pond.
The red X pointed straight at the water. He leaned over the edge and saw his own green reflection surrounded by floating light. He reached out a webbed finger. The fireflies scattered in a burst of sparkles, then reformed into the shape of a tiny frog sitting cross-legged on the water, winking at him.
He splashed into the pool and swam in circles until his legs felt wobbly. The cool water pressed against his belly. The fireflies chased him like they were playing a game. He climbed out onto the bank, dripping and breathless, and shook himself until droplets flew everywhere — each one catching the firefly light and turning into a tiny rainbow.
He held the map up. The X was calm now — no longer pulsing, no longer pointing anywhere. He looked at the Whispering Forest, then at his map, then back at the forest. A slow grin spread across his face. He folded the map carefully, tucked it inside his webbed foot, and hopped back toward the sparkly pond at the edge of the trees.
The fireflies dimmed one by one until the forest was soft and blue and quiet. He curled up beside his sparkling pond, the crinkly yellow map pressed against his chest. His green eyelids drooped. He dreamed of the white mushrooms, the glass pool, and the frog made of starlight.