Pip scurried across the mossy stones. He planted his paws at the edge of the blueberry patch. His tail went up high.
Bramble marched up, ears flattened and quills bristling. Pip pointed a claw at the berries. "I found it first," Pip said.
Bramble huffed dandelion fluff into the air and stormed off. Tap-tap-tap went his little feet on the stones.
Pip gathered a huge armful of blueberries. But they tasted wrong. One rolled away and disappeared into a crack.
Another was half-eaten by a beetle with shiny green wings. Pip sat alone on a mossy rock. He thought: I wish Bramble were here.
Pip picked up three perfect blueberries. His tail dragged behind him as he walked to the hollow log.
"I'm sorry," Pip said quietly. A single blueberry tumbled from his paw onto the moss.
Bramble squeezed out, took a berry, and crunch-crunch-crunched. Pip took another and crunch-crunch-crunched too. They sat shoulder to shoulder as the sun painted the clearing gold.
