Chapter 3
Mousie kept the golden leaf in her hat.
Dad did not know this.
Dad believed hats were for things like keeping the sun out of your eyes and hiding your hair when you didn’t feel like brushing it. Mousie knew better.
Hats could also hold golden leaves from magical forests.
The purple flower Pip had given her was pressed between the pages of a book beside her bed. Mousie checked on it every few days, just to make sure it was still there. It always was.
The golden leaf was different. Sometimes it felt warm. Sometimes it felt cold.
Once, Mousie was almost certain it had moved. She had started checking it every morning. Not constantly. But certainly more often than anyone should reasonably need to inspect the inside of a teal Carhartt hat.
Dad had apparently accepted this. Mostly.
On Saturday morning, he found Mousie sitting at the kitchen table with the hat upside down in front of her.
She was staring into it. Dad opened the refrigerator.
“Anything interesting?”
“No.”
He poured himself some orange juice.
“Hat doing okay?”
“Yep.”
“Good.”
He nodded seriously.
“I’ve been worried.”
Mousie narrowed her eyes.
“You’re making fun of me.”
“A little.”
Dad took a drink. Then he smiled.
“Zoo today?”
Mousie forgot about being annoyed.
“Really?”
“Really.”
She grabbed the hat. Dad pointed toward the stairs.
“Clothes first.”
“I am wearing clothes.”
“Different clothes.”
Mousie looked down at her pajamas.
“Why?”
Dad stared at her. Mousie stared back. Neither moved. Finally Dad sighed.
“Fine. Pajamas at the zoo.”
Mousie smiled.
“I’m changing.”
“I figured.”
Thirty minutes later, they were in the car. Dad had remembered the water bottles. He had remembered the sunscreen. He had remembered his coffee.
Mousie inspected the cup holder. Then the back seat. Then Dad.
“I think you got everything.”
Dad smiled proudly.
“I’m growing.”
Mousie put on her hat. The golden leaf was cold. Very cold.
She stopped. Touched the brim. Something felt wrong.
Not scary wrong. Just different.
Like when the air changes before a storm.
“You okay?” Dad asked.
Mousie nodded.
“Yeah.”
She looked out the window.
“Just thinking.”
Dad pulled onto the road.
“Dangerous hobby.”
Mousie rolled her eyes.
The zoo was busy. Very busy.
There were strollers everywhere. Children everywhere. Balloons everywhere. Somewhere nearby, someone was crying because they had dropped an ice cream cone.
Mousie and Dad saw the penguins first. Then the elephants. Then Dad announced that they should go see the reptile building.
Mousie stopped walking. Dad took two more steps before noticing. He turned around.
“What?”
“The bears.”
“We always see the bears.”
“Exactly.”
Dad looked at her. Then toward the reptile building. Then back at Mousie. He seemed to understand that this was not a negotiation.
“Bears it is.”
As they got closer to Boris’s enclosure, Mousie reached into her hat. The golden leaf was freezing now. She pulled it out. Its color had changed.
The bright gold had faded. The little leaf looked almost gray. Mousie’s stomach tightened.
She hurried toward the railing. Boris was already waiting.
He wasn’t sitting near the rocks this time. He was pacing.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Mousie had never seen him do that before. When he saw her, he stopped.
“Mousie.”
She held up the leaf.
“What happened?”
Boris looked at it. Then at her.
“We need to go.”
That was all he said. No joke. No explanation. Just:
“We need to go.”
Mousie turned toward Dad. He was standing a few feet away, looking at his phone.
“Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m going to talk to Boris.”
Dad glanced toward the enormous bear.
“Tell him I like what he’s done with the place.”
Mousie looked at Boris.
“He says he likes what you’ve done with the place.”
Boris stared at her.
“Your father is strange.”
Mousie nodded. “I know.”
Boris walked toward the trees. Mousie followed. This time she didn’t hesitate when the railing disappeared. She didn’t hesitate when the fence disappeared. She didn’t even hesitate when the three trees opened into the path beyond.
She simply stepped through. And the zoo vanished.
The Whispering Woods were dark. Not nighttime dark. Something stranger.
The sky above the trees was purple and gray, even though it had been a bright afternoon at the zoo.
The leaves hung still. The creek moved quietly. And the tiny floating lights Mousie remembered from her first visit were gone. Every single one. She looked around.
“Where are all the lights?”
Boris kept walking.
“That is why we’re here.”
Mousie hurried beside him.
“What happened?”
“We don’t know.”
“Where are we going?”
“To find out.”
They followed the creek deeper into the woods. Mousie had never been this far before. She recognized the purple flowers near Pip’s home. Then the giant oak.
“Pip!”
A tiny brown head appeared from the roots.
“Mousie!”
Pip raced toward her. Mousie crouched and held out her hand. Pip climbed onto her palm.
“You came back!”
“I did.”
Pip looked at Boris. Then his excitement disappeared.
“You’re going to see Flick?”
Boris nodded. Mousie looked between them.
“Who’s Flick?”
Pip’s ears drooped.
“A firefly.”
“What happened to him?”
Pip glanced into the dark woods.
“He stopped glowing.”
Mousie waited.
“That’s it?”
Pip looked surprised.
“That’s not a small thing when you’re a firefly.”
Mousie immediately remembered something Boris had told her. The smallest problems can feel very big when you’re the one having them. She nodded.
“Where is he?”
Pip climbed onto her shoulder.
“I’ll show you.”
They found Flick beneath an enormous mushroom. He was tiny. Smaller even than Pip.
He had two delicate wings, six little legs, and enormous eyes. He was curled beneath the mushroom cap with his back toward them. Three other fireflies hovered nearby.
They glowed bright green. Flick did not glow at all.
A rabbit stood beside them holding a jar. An owl watched from a branch overhead. Two squirrels whispered behind a tree. Mousie frowned.
“What’s everybody doing?”
Pip whispered into her ear.
“Trying to help.”
The rabbit stepped forward.
“I brought moonwater.”
The owl flapped down from the branch.
“I told him to sleep upside down.”
One of the squirrels held up an acorn.
“We thought maybe he was hungry.”
The other squirrel held up another acorn.
“I brought two.”
A firefly buzzed toward Mousie.
“We tried polishing him.”
Mousie blinked.
“You polished him?”
“Very gently.”
Flick pulled himself farther beneath the mushroom. Boris sat down. Everyone grew quiet.
“What happened?” Mousie asked.
One of the fireflies answered.
“His light went out yesterday.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know.”
“Did anything happen?”
“No.”
“Was he hurt?”
“No.”
“Did he eat something weird?”
The squirrel slowly lowered the acorns.
“No.”
Mousie crouched beside the mushroom.
“Flick?”
Nothing.
She leaned closer.
“Hi.”
Still nothing.
“I’m Mousie.”
A tiny voice came from beneath the mushroom.
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Everyone knows who you are.”
Mousie looked at Boris. Boris looked away. Mousie smiled a little.
“Can I see you?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
She sat down. The forest creatures watched. Mousie looked at Flick’s friends.
“What does he usually do?”
One of the fireflies brightened.
“The Lantern Walk.”
“What’s that?”
Every creature around her began speaking at once.
“It’s tonight!”
“The fireflies lead it!”
“Through the woods!”
“To Moonwater Pond!”
“They light the whole path!”
The owl spread his wings.
“Every year, when the moon is smallest, the fireflies guide everyone through the forest.”
Pip pointed toward Flick.
“He leads them.”
Mousie looked beneath the mushroom.
“Oh.”
Now she understood.
Flick wasn’t only a firefly who couldn’t glow. He was the firefly everyone expected to glow.
“Maybe we can fix it,” Mousie said.
Flick pulled his wings closer to his body.
Boris said nothing. Mousie stood.
“What have you tried?”
The rabbit held up the jar.
“Moonwater.”
“Did he drink it?”
“No.”
“Maybe he should.”
Flick’s voice came from beneath the mushroom.
“No.”
Mousie thought.
“What about food?”
The squirrels lifted the acorns again.
“Acorns?”
Mousie looked at Pip.
“Do fireflies eat acorns?”
Pip shrugged.
“I’m a mouse.”
“Right.”
The owl cleared his throat.
“Sleeping upside down has been known to improve circulation.”
Mousie looked at him.
“For fireflies?”
The owl paused.
“For bats.”
“Flick isn’t a bat.”
The owl looked mildly offended.
“I am aware.”
Mousie began thinking. There had to be an answer. There was always an answer. Maybe Flick needed sunlight. Maybe he needed water. Maybe he needed to fly. Maybe something had frightened him.
Maybe—
“Boris?”
“Yes?”
“What makes fireflies glow?”
Boris looked at her.
“Fireflies.”
“That isn’t helpful.”
“It is accurate.”
Mousie frowned.
Boris settled onto the ground.
“You seem very determined to fix Flick.”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“Because his light went out.”
“And?”
“And he needs it back.”
“Does he?”
Mousie stared at Boris.
“He’s a firefly.”
Boris nodded.
“Excellent observation.”
“He has to lead the Lantern Walk.”
“Does he?”
Mousie was getting annoyed.
“Yes.”
“Did Flick tell you that?”
Mousie stopped. She looked beneath the mushroom.
No. He hadn’t. Everyone else had.
Mousie sat down again. This time she didn’t look at Boris. She looked at the darkness beneath the mushroom.
“Flick?”
“Yes?”
“Do you want to lead the Lantern Walk?”
Silence.
The other creatures shifted uncomfortably.
Finally Flick whispered:
“I did.”
Mousie waited.
“But now?”
Another long pause.
“I don’t know.”
Mousie nodded.
“Okay.”
One of the fireflies buzzed closer.
“But the walk is tonight.”
Boris lifted one enormous paw. The firefly stopped talking. Mousie leaned down.
“Flick, what happened yesterday?”
“Nothing.”
“You were glowing?”
“Yes.”
“And then you weren’t?”
“Yes.”
“Were you scared?”
“No.”
“Did something hurt?”
“No.”
“Were you tired?”
“I don’t know.”
Mousie thought.
“What were you doing when your light went out?”
Flick was quiet for so long Mousie thought he might not answer. Then:
“Practicing.”
“For tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Were you alone?”
“No.”
Flick’s voice grew smaller.
“Everyone was watching.”
Mousie looked around at the animals. Several of them suddenly seemed very interested in the ground. Flick continued.
“They kept telling me how important tonight was.”
Nobody spoke.
“How everyone was counting on me.”
The owl tucked his wings against himself.
“How I always make the forest beautiful.”
One of the squirrels slowly hid his acorns behind his back.
“And then?”
Flick swallowed.
“I thought about everyone watching me tonight.”
His voice shook.
“And my light went out.”
Mousie sat very still.
“Oh.”
Flick crawled deeper beneath the mushroom.
“So now everybody is trying to make it come back.”
Mousie looked around. At the jar of moonwater. At the owl. At the squirrels. At the glowing fireflies. Then at Boris.
He wasn’t watching Flick. He was watching her. Mousie finally understood.
“Everybody go away.”
The forest creatures stared at her.Pip whispered into her ear.
“Mousie?”
“Not forever.”
She waved her hands.
“Just go somewhere else for a little while.”
The rabbit hesitated.
“But—”
“Please.”
Boris stood.
“You heard her.”
Slowly, everyone left. The rabbit carried away the moonwater. The owl flew into another tree. The squirrels disappeared with their acorns. The fireflies floated farther into the woods. Even Pip climbed down from Mousie’s shoulder.
“I’ll be by the oak.”
Mousie nodded. Boris started walking too. She looked up.
“You’re leaving?”
“You told everyone to go.”
“Not you.”
Boris smiled. Then sat beneath a nearby tree.
He was far enough away to give them space. Close enough to stay. Soon it was just Mousie and Flick. And darkness. Mousie sat beside the mushroom. She didn’t say anything. A minute passed. Then another. Finally Flick spoke.
“Aren’t you going to try something?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know what to try.”
“You could give me the moonwater.”
“You said you didn’t want it.”
“Oh.”
They sat quietly. After a while, Flick crawled out from beneath the mushroom. Just a little. Mousie pretended not to notice.
“What if my light never comes back?” he asked.
Mousie thought carefully.
“I don’t know.”
Flick turned toward her. Everyone else had apparently been giving him answers all day. This answer surprised him. Mousie shrugged.
“I don’t know what happens if it doesn’t come back.”
“But the Lantern Walk.”
“Someone else can lead it.”
“But I always lead it.”
“Maybe this year you don’t.”
Flick looked horrified.
“What will everyone think?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if they’re disappointed?”
“They might be.”
Flick’s wings drooped. Mousie immediately regretted saying it. But Boris spoke from beneath the tree.
“Mousie.”
She looked over. He nodded once. Keep going. Mousie turned back.
“Would that be worse than doing something you’re scared to do because everyone expects you to?”
Flick didn’t answer. Mousie pulled her knees against her chest.
“Sometimes I don’t want to do things either.”
“Like what?”
“Lots of things.”
Flick waited.
Mousie thought.
“Sometimes grown-ups say something is going to be fun before they even ask if I want to do it.”
Flick crawled farther out.
“They do?”
“All the time.”
“That sounds annoying.”
“It is.”
“Do you tell them?”
Mousie thought about Dad.
“Sometimes.”
“And if you don’t?”
“I usually end up crabby.”
Flick laughed. It was a tiny laugh. Barely more than a squeak. But Mousie heard it.
She smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You laughed.”
“So?”
“Nothing.”
Flick crawled completely out from beneath the mushroom. He sat beside her. Still dark. Still not glowing. But no longer hiding.
“What happens if I don’t lead the walk?” he asked.
Mousie looked into the woods.
“We find another way.”
The Lantern Walk began just after dark. Which was strange because the Whispering Woods had already seemed dark. But this darkness was different.
Deep. Blue. Quiet.
Hundreds of animals gathered beneath the giant oak. Rabbits. Mice. Squirrels. Foxes. Deer. Owls.
Creatures Mousie had never seen before and wasn’t entirely sure had names. The fireflies hovered together near the front. All of them glowing.
Except Flick. He stood on Mousie’s shoulder.
“You don’t have to come,” she whispered.
“I want to.”
“You don’t have to lead.”
“I know.”
That seemed important.
Boris stood beside them.
The owl flew onto a branch.
“Without Flick’s light, the path to Moonwater Pond may be difficult.”
Flick stiffened. Mousie felt it. She looked around. Then she noticed something. The golden leaf. She pulled it from her hat. It was no longer gray. It had turned gold again. Not bright enough to light the forest. But bright enough to catch what little moonlight came through the trees.
Mousie held it up. A thin beam reflected from the leaf onto another leaf. Then another.
She smiled.
“Boris.”
“Yes?”
“I have an idea.”
Soon the creatures were gathering every pale leaf, shiny stone, bit of quartz, and drop of water they could find. They lined the path. The moonlight caught them. A silver trail appeared through the forest. It wasn’t as bright as the fireflies. It wasn’t as beautiful as the Lantern Walk usually was. It was uneven. A little messy.
In some places, it was barely visible. But it was enough. The animals started walking. The other fireflies flew above them.
Flick stayed on Mousie’s shoulder.
Nobody asked him to glow. Nobody told him how important he was. Nobody tried to fix him. They simply walked.
Eventually they reached Moonwater Pond.
Mousie stopped. The pond was enormous. Perfectly still. The entire night sky reflected on its surface.
Thousands of stars. The moon. The glowing fireflies.
For a moment, it looked as though the forest had two skies. One above them. One below. Flick stared.
“I’ve never seen it from down here.”
Mousie smiled.
“You’re usually flying.”
“Yeah.”
They sat at the edge of the pond. One by one, the animals grew quiet. Flick climbed from Mousie’s shoulder onto her hand.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not trying to make me glow.”
Mousie smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
They watched the stars.
A few minutes later, Mousie felt something warm against her fingers. She looked down. Flick’s light had returned.
Very faintly. A tiny green glow appeared at the end of his body.
Mousie held her breath. Flick noticed.
His eyes widened.
“I’m—”
Mousie put one finger to her lips.
Flick stopped. The light grew slightly brighter. Then dimmer. Then brighter again.
Flick looked toward the other fireflies. Mousie shook her head.
“You don’t have to.”
He thought about it. Then smiled.
“I know.”
Flick lifted into the air. Not very high. Just above Mousie’s head.
His light glowed softly as he flew over the pond. One of the other fireflies noticed. Then another. No one cheered.
No one rushed toward him. No one told him they knew he could do it.
They simply made room. Flick joined them.
Boris sat beside Mousie.
For a while, they watched the lights dance across the water. Mousie leaned against his enormous side.
“So I did fix him.”
Boris looked down.
“Did you?”
“His light came back.”
“Yes.”
“Because of me.”
Boris raised an eyebrow. Mousie frowned.
“Okay. Maybe not because of me.”
Boris looked back toward the pond.
“Sometimes helping someone isn’t about finding the right thing to say.”
Mousie waited.
“Sometimes,” Boris continued, “it’s about being willing to sit beside them until they don’t feel quite so alone.”
Mousie thought about Flick beneath the mushroom. Everyone had brought something. Moonwater. Food. Advice. Answers.
Mousie had brought nothing. Maybe that had been exactly what he needed.
When they returned to the zoo, Dad was standing in exactly the same spot.
He looked at his phone. Then at Mousie.
“Ready for reptiles?”
Mousie blinked.
“That’s it?”
Dad frowned.
“What’s it?”
“You haven’t moved.”
“I’ve been standing here for maybe thirty seconds.”
Mousie looked at Boris. He was lying near the rocks. Completely ordinary. Completely enormous. Completely impossible.
Dad began walking. Mousie followed. After a few steps, something flickered beneath the brim of her hat.
She stopped. Reached inside. The golden leaf was warm again.
Beside it sat a tiny green light. Mousie carefully cupped her hands around it. A firefly crawled onto her finger.
“Flick?”
He glowed once.
Then flew from her hand. Up. Over the railing. Past the trees. Gone.
“Mousie?”
Dad called from farther down the path. She ran after him.
“Coming!”
When she caught up, Dad looked at her.
“What were you doing?”
Mousie thought about the mushroom. About the moonlit pond. About Flick.
“Nothing.”
Dad nodded.
“Good nothing?”
Mousie slipped her hand into his.
“The best kind.”
Dad squeezed her hand. They walked toward the reptile building. Mousie looked up at him.
“Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“If somebody is having a bad day, do you always have to make it better?”
Dad thought about the question.
“No.”
“What do you do?”
“Sometimes you just sit with them.”
Mousie smiled. Dad glanced down.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Hat tell you something again?”
Mousie laughed.
“No.”
She touched the brim. Not this time. And somewhere far behind them, hidden beyond three ordinary trees, a tiny green light began to glow.
