The Way Home
The sun was going down behind the hills. Mia the fox stood at the edge of the meadow and stretched. All day she had been playing—chasing grasshoppers, digging in the soft dirt by the old stump, watching the clouds change shape. Now the air smelled different. Cooler. The shadows were long and blue. It was time to go home.
Mia walked into the forest. The trees were tall and quiet. She passed the rabbit family, tucked into their burrow under the roots of the big oak. The smallest rabbit waved one paw. "Goodnight, Mia," he whispered. "Goodnight," Mia whispered back. She kept walking. Her paws made no sound on the moss.
By the stream, the heron was standing on one leg. His eyes were half-closed. "Long day?" Mia asked. The heron nodded slowly. "Long day. Good day." Mia sat for a moment and listened to the water. It made a low, bubbling song. The heron's feathers looked silver in the fading light.
Mia crossed the stream on the old log. The bark was smooth under her paws—she had crossed this log a hundred times. On the other side, she saw the deer. He was eating the last green leaves from the low branches. He looked up when Mia passed. "The stars are coming," the deer said. Mia looked up. He was right. One star, then two.
The path curved up the hill. Mia's legs were tired now, but it was a good kind of tired. The kind that means you used your body all day. She passed the owl's tree. The owl was waking up, blinking his big yellow eyes. "Hello, Mia," he hooted softly. "Almost home?" "Almost," Mia said. The owl ruffled his feathers and settled on his branch to watch the night begin.
At the top of the hill, Mia could see her den. The entrance was a dark circle between two rocks, and a little bit of light glowed inside. Her mother was home. Mia walked down the slope. The grass was cool and damp. The moon was rising, big and quiet, over the trees.
Inside the den, it was warm. Mia's mother touched her nose to Mia's ear. "Good day?" she asked. "Good day," Mia said. She curled up on the soft leaves and moss. Outside, the forest was settling. The crickets sang. The wind moved through the branches, gentle as breathing.
Mia closed her eyes. She could still feel the sun on her back from the meadow. She could still hear the stream's song and the owl's soft hoot. The forest was sleeping. Mia was home. And that was exactly where she wanted to be.
The end. Sleep well.