Pip tugged at his blankets until they unravelled. They tumbled onto the floor. His paws stayed flat against the pillow. One foot tapped a nervous rhythm.
Pip marched through the tall woods to school. His shadow stretched long between the trunks. Every pebble crunching under his tiny paws. He kept his chin up.
Pip reached the schoolhouse door and pushed it open. Sunlight poured across painted pictures on the walls. A painted squirrel winks at him, its painted tail twitching. Every head in the room turned to stare.
At the back of the room, a badger girl slides a red crayon across her desk. Pip sits down and sets the crayon to paper. The bright window makes the painted pictures shimmer like they're breathing.
Pip began to draw a tree with his new crayon. The badger girl drew flowers beside him. Soon other students gathered around to see his picture.
"Your tree looks real!" said the badger girl. Pip's foot stopped tapping. He smiled at his drawing, then at his new friend.
The teacher clapped her paws. "Show and tell time!" Pip stepped forward, his paper held high. The painted squirrel on the wall seemed to nod.
That afternoon, Pip marched home through the tall woods. His shadow danced between the trunks. He didn't mind the pebbles crunching anymore.