Twick hops through the meadow, ears swishing between the tall purple and yellow flowers. Golden light pours over everything. She stops. Her nose twitches.
Between two dandelions, a soft golden glow pulses up from the dirt. Twick crouches low. "What is that?" she whispers to herself.
Twick digs her front paws deep into the soft soil. Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch. Something round bumps up against her toes.
Out pops the carrot, glowing warm gold instead of orange. It floats up a little, drifting like a slow spark.
The carrot lands right in Twick's paws, tiny specks of light still drifting off. Her ears shoot straight up. She stares.
Twick tucks the glowing carrot under her arm and pads homeward along the sun-warmed path. "Almost there," she thinks, ears forward.
A wall of tall, scratchy grass blocks the way. Twick squeezes through. Every grass tip shimmers gold where the carrot's glow touches it.
A leaf brushes a thistle. Ouch! Twick flinches and clutches the carrot tighter. "Careful, careful," she mumbles, shoulders hunched.
The path dips into shadow. The golden meadow light is gone. Only a soft hum stays.
Twick's steps slow. The carrot's glow pulses softer, warmer. Every wildflower she passes catches the light, blooming into a ring of gold.
She looks down. The whole path is lit, petal by petal, all the way to her burrow door.
Twick pads through the door and sets the carrot on her shelf, between the wooden spoon and the dry leaves. She curls into her nest. The glow ticks on, steady and warm.
