In the sunny meadow, Quibbles the duck quacked all morning long. He quacked at the wildflowers and quacked at the willow branches.
Quibbles waddled through the tall grass. Quack! He quacked at a butterfly. Quack-quack! He quacked at a buzzing bumblebee.
Quibbles quacked all afternoon too. Quack! He quacked at the wildflowers. Quack-quack-quack! He quacked at the willow branches.
Quibbles quacked until the sun grew low. The meadow glowed gold in the late afternoon light.
Quibbles tried to quack again. But only a tiny squeak came out. He pressed his beak to the cool grass and listened.
The meadow felt very different without his voice. Everything was so quiet.
Quibbles waddled to the pond edge. The water shivered silver under the moon.
Something flickered — one tiny light, then two, then dozens of fireflies rising from the reeds!
Quibbles reached out a webby foot. One firefly hovered near his toes, warm and bright.
The firefly drifted up into the willow branches. The pond hummed with crickets, soft and steady.
Quibbles settled onto a soft patch of moss by the water. He closed his eyes and breathed in the cool night air.
A tiny, happy quack escaped — just for himself, just for the quiet.