Fenn Says Goodnight to the Forest

The sun had gone down behind the hills… slowly, the way it always does. The forest turned blue and soft. And a little fox came out of his den — a small red fox with ears like two warm leaves. His name was Fenn. Every evening, before he could sleep, Fenn had one last thing to do. He had to say goodnight… to everyone.

Fenn padded onto the evening path. Pat… pat… pat… went his four small paws in the cool dust. The air smelled of moss and pine and rain from yesterday. Above him, the first star opened its eye. Fenn walked slowly — because goodnights should never be hurried. And the very first friend was waiting right there, at the bend in the path.

The old oak stood tall and wide, with roots like sleeping arms. Her bark was rough and warm from the whole long day of sun. Fenn sat down and looked all the way up… up… to where her branches held the sky. "Goodnight, old oak," he said. And the oak answered the way she always does — with a slow rustle of leaves. Shhhh… shhhh… Like a very big yawn.

Fenn walked on, and the path went down toward the water. He could hear it before he could see it — that small silver sound between the stones. The stream was slower now than in the morning. Sleepy water. Fenn dipped one paw in, just to say hello. Then he leaned close and whispered, "Goodnight, sleepy stream." And the stream answered — ripple, ripple, ripple. Round and round the little rocks.

The reeds nodded. The frogs went quiet, one by one, like small lamps going out. Fenn sat by the water a moment longer and watched the moon come apart on the surface and put itself back together again. His paws were cool. His tail was warm. And somewhere far behind his eyes… the first sleepy feeling began to move in.