Robin and the Honey-Coloured Door

The evening had gone soft and golden, and Robin was the only one still awake — or so it seemed.

At the bottom of the garden, tucked under the old pear tree, a small round door glowed the colour of honey. Robin had walked past it a hundred times and never noticed. Tonight, it was just the right size.

Inside was a burrow, warm and snug, where a sleepy hedgehog named Pim was fluffing up a bed of soft leaves. “You're just in time,” Pim yawned. “I could use some help counting the stars before they go to sleep too.”

So they lay back together and counted — one silver star, two, three — until the numbers grew slow and blurry and lovely, and the sky felt like a blanket pulled up to the chin.

By the time they reached the sleepiest star of all, Robin's eyes were already closing. Pim tucked a leaf gently over them both. “Goodnight, Robin,” he whispered. “The garden will keep your dreams safe till morning.”

And warm, and cosy, and wonderfully sleepy, Robin drifted all the way down into dreamland. The end.