Pip slaps the crumpled map onto a flat rock. The bear unrolls it with one broad paw. "The X is past the bluebells!" Pip points a claw at the squiggle.
The squiggle drags them into the tall trees. Sunlight drops gold coins on soft moss. Ferns whisper at their paws.
Squeee! The duckling waddles into a thicket of daisies and gets hopelessly tangled. Her little wings flap. She cannot get free.
The bear crouches, plucks her free, and carries her under one paw like a yolk-yellow egg. Pip checks the map. One more turn.
All four stop beneath a wide old oak. The X marks a damp-smelling spot. Pip sniffs the ground and digs first.
Pip digs. The bear pries. The rabbit scoops. The duckling stirs loose dirt with tiny feet. CRACK.
A glass jar tumbles out, catching the sun. Inside: bluebells and daisies. The exact same flowers blooming in the clearing they just left.
The duckling sniffs the jar and sneezes, sending petals into the air. "Same time next week?" Muddy paws trundle through the ferns — four sets of tracks, side by side.
