Beneath the old tree's gnarled roots, Finn lay curled tight. His ribs rose and fell with every shallow breath. A dry leaf skittered past his nose, but he didn't lift his head.
Then a field mouse tumbled from a root hole. It carried a golden dandelion seed, twice its size. The mouse dropped the seed at Finn's nose and tapped it once with a tiny paw.
Finn sniffed the seed, then looked at the mouse. He picked it up gently and swallowed. The mouse chirped a sound like a laugh, and Finn's tail gave a single, slow thump.
The next morning, Finn waited at the root base. An acorn balanced on his tongue. The mouse emerged and stopped dead. The acorn rolled toward the hole, but Finn caught it with his paw and nudged it back.
Finn and the mouse sat together in the dappled light. The acorn split between them, crumbs scattered on the forest floor. Neither was in a hurry to leave.
As the afternoon light faded into gold, the mouse groomed its whiskers with meticulous care. Finn watched, his ears twitching at every rustle of leaves overhead. His tail curled loosely around his paws.
Soon the mouse nestled close, pressing its small warm body against Finn's side. Finn rested his heavy head, listening to the steady, comforting rhythm of a new friend. His breathing slowed, matching the mouse's soft chirps as the light dimmed. The forest seemed to hold its breath around them.
The forest grew quiet around them, the shadows lengthening into night. Finn and the mouse slept curled together beneath the roots, safe in the darkening woods. The old tree stood sentinel, its roots wrapping around the sleeping pair like a protective embrace. High above, the canopy whispered in the wind.