The park path curled past a bench and under whispering trees. Behind a big maple leaf, Quillow slipped out of sight as a bicycle bell rang by.
Quillow peeked through a tiny hole in the leaf. Very still. Very quiet. Then, from the shady bushes, came a small rustle.
Quillow tiptoed from one bush to the next to see who made the sound.
But a dry leaf stuck to Quillow's nose and came along like a silly mask.
Quillow froze. "Oh!" The leaf crackled down into the grass. From behind the bush, a soft voice whispered, "I like quiet too."
Quillow lifted the leaf and took one careful step closer.
A blue jay landed on the bench and gave a loud squawk. Both little listeners jumped apart.
Quillow ducked low under the leafy shadows and listened. Scratch, scratch, went tiny claws in the dirt on the other side.
Then Quillow rolled a smooth acorn across the path. A gentle hello.
Quillow waited while the acorn bumped the bench leg, tapped a stone, and stopped by the bush.
After a moment, another little hedgehog slowly rolled it back.
Quillow smiled and rolled the acorn again. Softer this time.
The park stayed hushed. Only the branches brushed in the breeze.
Quillow peeked around the bush at last. The other little hedgehog peeked too.
Nose to nose, they stayed for one little blink. Then both smiled.
Soon they settled under the same wide leaf beside the bench, rolling the acorn back and forth along the dusty path.
They did not say much. They did not need to.
Above them, the leaf flickered green. The bushes rustled softly. And the quiet felt shared now.
