The Lantern in the Ferns

When the moon rose over the forest, a little fox named Fern found a golden light tucked beneath a leaf. It was no bigger than a raindrop. She sat very still to see what it would do.

The light lifted into the air. It was a firefly. Fern followed it past a patch of bluebells, where the flowers nodded in the breeze. A second firefly joined them, and then a third, until the path looked as if someone had hung tiny lanterns among the ferns.

At the bend in the path, the fireflies stopped above a smooth stone. Fern knew it well. In the morning it warmed up before anywhere else, and she liked to sit on it while the birds woke up. Tonight it still held a little of the day's warmth.

Fern rested there and listened. A drop of water fell into the brook. Somewhere in the branches an owl turned on its perch. She began to notice the spaces between the sounds, long and still, like the space between one lantern and the next.

She took the last few steps home, to the hollow below the old oak. Inside was a nest made of grass and the softest moss she had found all summer. She turned around once, then twice, and tucked her nose under her tail.

Through the doorway, Fern could see a single firefly floating above the bluebells. She watched it glow, then watched the place where it had been. By the time it lit again, Fern had already slipped into a dream.