Mid-step on the winding trail, Bramble froze solid. Between the pale birch trunks, a small blue light blinked once, then twice. He didn't move. He just stared.
His ears shot straight up. His tail puffed to twice its size, every whisker bristling. He dropped to all fours and launched toward the glow.
The old log bridge gave one slow wobble under his first paw. Creak. Creak. Creak. Far below the gap, the brown water rushed and rushed and rushed.
He pressed all four paws flat against the rough, creaking wood. One step. Two steps. The bridge groaned and sagged, but he kept going.
A badger sat right in the middle of the trail. Snort. Thud. Thud. He stamped one thick black foot and looked up, nostrils flaring wide.
Bramble's eyes went wide. Wider and wider still. He scooted sideways through the ferns, tail dragging on the dirt, and kept on running.
He tumbled out of the ferns into a clearing so quiet the lake barely rippled. Fat blue mushrooms glowed low to the ground, their light shivering across the still water.
Dozens of fireflies blinked gold above the still water, circling the mushroom glow. Bramble lowered himself onto the damp grass and tilted his head. What were they dancing to?
