Crunch… step… crunch.

Fern the fox walked slowly along the shaded trail, where the air felt cooler and the ground felt soft beneath his paws. Nearby, the creek moved steadily, not loud, but always there. Swish… trickle… swish...

He stepped closer to the edge and paused. The ground looked different here, darker and damp. When he lowered his head, he noticed marks pressed into the soil. Small ones. Larger ones. Some clear, some fading into the earth.

“These weren’t here before,” he said.

Rue the bluebird landed beside him and looked down. Not all the marks were the same. Some were deeper. Some lighter. They didn’t all happen at once.

Fern studied one set closely. The prints pressed into the soft ground, then disappeared near the water’s edge. Something had come through here.

Rustle rustle.

A quick shift near the edge of the creek.

Fern froze.

They both stayed still.

The leaves near the water trembled slightly.

Tick… shift…

Fern glanced back at the ground, then toward the water again. The marks, the movement… something connected them.

Plop!

Something slipped into the creek.

Fern’s ears lifted. “I saw it.”

Rue leaned forward, watching the ripples spread across the surface. The water smoothed out again, as if nothing had happened.

Fern stepped closer, more careful now. Near the edge, he noticed a different set of marks. Smaller. Closer together.

He pointed. “These look different.”

“Short jumps,” Rue said softly.

Fern looked from the marks to the water, then back again.

A pattern.

“It was a frog!”

Rue nodded. “It stays close to the water.”

Fern stood still for a moment, listening again. Swish… trickle… swoosh. The creek kept moving, and around it, life moved quietly too.

He stepped back onto the trail, placing his paws more carefully this time.

“I think we should walk softly,” he said.

Rue lifted into the air, gliding just above the ground. Fern followed, quieter now, as the creek continued beside them. All around, small movements came and went, easy to miss if you didn’t stop to notice.