In Mosswood, something golden rolled through the moss. It stopped right at Thimble's paws.
Thimble's ears flattened. His tail curled tight. He thought this was too strange, too sudden.
The lantern bounced ahead. Past cottages. Under the creaky old bridge. Thimble followed.
Thimble's paws padded softly over the moss. The light was so warm. So inviting.
The lantern flickered. Then it went dark. Thimble froze. Something crunches ahead.
The crunching grew louder. Then— a tiny spark. The lantern flared back to life.
Thimble stepped into the deepest shadow. Something huge unfolded on a toadstool ahead.
The blue-winged moth bumped Thimble's nose. He let out a little laugh. Then it landed.
Thimble reached out one paw. The moth settled onto his fur. He smiled.
Thimble walked back through Mosswood. The lantern glowed. The moth rode on his tail.
The shadows looked friendly now. Thimble's steps were light. He was heading home.
The golden lantern led the way home through Mosswood. Everything felt right.
