Lila the hedgehog nestled in the mossy shadows of Glimmerwood, her tiny body curled as she watched the fireflies twirl like golden stars. Their light shimmered across the leaves, casting flickering patterns on her quills. She sighed.
If only I weren’t so shy.
She loved the stillness of the woods, but sometimes, she longed to shine—just like them.
One evening, a tiny, trembling voice broke the quiet.
"Help! I’m lost!"
Lila’s ears twitched. She peeked through the ferns and spotted a lone firefly, his glow dim with worry.
"I-I can ask the wind," she whispered, her voice barely louder than the rustling leaves.
She plucked a dandelion, took a deep breath, and blew. The tiny seed floated up, up, up—carrying Flick’s plea into the night.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a soft whistle curled through the trees. The wind had heard her. It swirled around them, rustling the branches, leading the way.
Lila and Flick followed, weaving through moonlit ferns and dewdrop-covered petals. And then—there they were! Flick’s swarm blinked and buzzed in delight as their missing friend returned.
Flick’s glow flared bright. "You’re brave, Lila!"
She blinked. Brave? Could she really be?
Word spread fast. Soon, other creatures came to her, whispering their troubles. A lost caterpillar. A sleepy moth searching for the moon. Each time, Lila listened. Each time, she helped.
By dawn, she wasn’t just the hedgehog who hid.
She was the one who listened. The one who cared.
And in her own quiet way—Lila shined.