Milo bumped his nose right into the old oak trunk and looked up. A tiny blue door, no bigger than an acorn, sat right in the bark. He pressed his ear to the keyhole and held still.
A wet, round eye peeks back at him through the keyhole. Then it vanishes. He thought: Someone is in there.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Milo leaned the blue door three times and slid a plate of honey biscuits and a small note underneath: 'For whoever's inside. You looked lonely.'
By the next morning the biscuits were gone. In their place, a single bright carrot sat on a leaf with a crooked smiley face scratched beside it. Milo crouched down. He thought: Oh, you little one.
The third day, tiny hop-hop footprints circled the whole trunk. Milo set down two more biscuits and a note with a heart drawn on it: 'I like your smiley face.'
Two little hearts on a fresh leaf. A single curly whisker caught on the hinge. Milo snorted a laugh and patted the bark. He thought: That's funny.
The door creaked open on its own. A small rabbit with one flopped ear gripped the frame, tucked half her face behind the wood, and took one slow hop onto the moss. Milo crouched all the way down. 'Hi,' he whispered.
The blue door hung wide open. Popsy sat on the step, a crumb stuck to her nose. The mouse nibbled a biscuit corner; the bird balanced on the doorknob. They shared the last few crumbs. No one said a word.
