When the moon slipped behind a cloud, the forest went black-black. Thin silver lines stayed on the ferns. The little fox slid out of a hollow log, froze, and stared into the long shadows. "Nope," whispered the little fox.
The little fox crept forward. Hop. Hop. But the shadows hopped too, long and wiggly on the tree trunks. The little fox ducked behind a stump and peeked out. Bzzzz! Something buzzed by one ear, and a fern flopped right over the little fox's nose.
A tiny firefly blinked on-off, on-off. It zipped over a hollow log, and suddenly a giant dancing fox shadow leaped across the wood. The little fox gasped. Then came one careful paw-step. Then one bouncy paw-step. The shadow copied both.
The little fox tried another step. The shadow did too. A little laugh popped out. The tiny firefly looped and dipped, and the shadows began to look less spooky and more silly.
Now the little fox twirled under the trees. The tiny firefly swirled and dipped, and the dancing shadows skipped over the ferns like playful partners. The little fox pounced at a shadow tail and landed with a soft thump in the moss.
The moon peeked out again. Silver light poured through the trees. The little fox popped up laughing, and the shadows only danced along beside the path home.
