Golden Glen: The People’s Picnic! Chapter 13

The People’s Picnic!

A few crumbs lay on the ground from the bread, and small birds like robins and sparrows fluttered down to peck at the tiny morsels.

Mumma turned her head and whispered to Willow, “Get a little more bread from the leftovers and scatter it for the hungry winged ones,” smiling at the loveable sight.

Willow sat up, reaching for the basket — but then she suddenly pressed her finger to her lips, her eyes wide.

“Shhh…”

Everyone fell still as Willow pointed toward the edge of the trees.

A larger crumb hunter was stepping into sight.

Rootsy stood at the edge of the forest looking nervous, his nose twitching and his whiskers quivering like tiny silver threads in the breeze.

Willow knelt and tried to make herself as small as possible whilst holding out her hand, a few crumbs resting on her palm to tempt him closer.

“Come here, little cutie,” she whispered gently, stretching her arm a little further. “No need to be frightened.”

Rootsy crept forward, paws soft against the moss. He sniffed the air, glancing around warily, then—very carefully—took the food from Willow’s hand.

He nibbled it sweetly, his tiny mouth munching in soft little crunches as Willow smiled, her heart glowing like sunshine.

“Oh wow!” Mumma breathed, her voice as soft as fluttering petals. “That is truly amazing, Willow my darling.”

Pappa’s eyes glimmered with warm, pleased affection, as though the golden light of the forest had settled right into his smile.

Willow and Rootsy shared a mischievous little wink — the kind that carries secret laughter — and with a delighted twitch of his whiskers, Rootsy bounded back into the trees, vanishing between the leaves like a tiny woodland whisper.