Yuki stood at the edge of the forest. Her small fingers touched the tall grass. A rustle — something moved deep in the shadows. She pulled her feet back and hid behind the doorframe.
The next morning, Yuki crept to the forest edge and counted three big trees she could reach. She tapped the first trunk — tok, tok, tok — then turned and ran back.
On the third day, she marched past the first tree and the second. She stopped at the third, where two paths twisted apart.
A branch cracked overhead. An owl hooted. Yuki's shoulders squeezed up to her ears and she backed away.
That night, Yuki walked all the way to the third tree. The forest was so dark she could not see her feet. Then a soft gold light hovered right in front of her nose.
It blinked once, twice, then floated toward the path home.
Yuki reached out, touched its gentle glow, and followed.
She walked behind the golden light all the way down the lane, past the wooden houses, to her own door.
Her parents were waiting with open arms. She did not run inside this time. She held her chin up and told them about the golden light.
The adult woman smiled. "You went all the way there?"