Deep in Hollow Wood, where the brambles curl and the moon peeks through the leaves, our story begins...
Bramble lived under an old tree stump at the edge of Hollow Wood, where the roots made cosy rooms and the moss grew thick and soft. He kept his acorn cups neatly stacked and his leaf blankets folded just so. Everything in Bramble's little home had its proper place, which was exactly how he liked things to be.
One bright morning, Bramble's best friend Hazel came scampering down from her nest in the oak tree above.
"Come on, Bramble," she called, her tail flicking with excitement. "Old Oakley's telling stories by the elderberry thicket. Everyone's going."
Bramble poked his snout out from his doorway. The elderberry thicket lay on the far side of Hollow Wood, just past the Dark Hollow where the trees grew close together and the shadows stayed even when the sun was high.
"Right then," said Bramble, brushing bits of leaf from his prickles. "I'll take the long way round, shall I? Through the meadow and along the stream. Much nicer views that way."
Hazel tilted her head. "But the Dark Hollow's much quicker. I'll wait if you like, and we can go together."
"Oh, no need," Bramble said quickly. "You go ahead. I do love the meadow this time of year. All those buttercups."
It wasn't exactly a fib. Bramble did like the buttercups. But it also wasn't the real reason he always went the long way round.
Hazel gave him a knowing sort of look, but she didn't press him. That was one of the things Bramble liked best about Hazel. She never made him feel small, even when she probably could have.
By the time Bramble arrived at the elderberry thicket, having taken the very long way indeed, Old Oakley was already deep into a tale about the time he'd travelled to the Far Fields. The old badger's voice rumbled like distant thunder, warm and comfortable. Bramble settled onto a tussock of grass beside Hazel, who'd saved him a spot.
That's when Bramble noticed a tiny mouse sitting all alone at the edge of the group. The mouse looked even smaller than mice usually did, and his whiskers trembled just a bit.
"That's Pip," Hazel whispered. "He's new to Hollow Wood. Moved here just yesterday with his family."
Bramble watched Pip listening to Old Oakley's story with wide, wondering eyes. Something about the little mouse reminded Bramble of something, though he couldn't quite say what.
After the stories finished, everyone scattered back to their own corners of the wood. Bramble took the long way home again, naturally, and found himself humming a little tune as he walked through the meadow. The afternoon sun painted everything golden.
He was nearly home when he spotted something that made him stop quite suddenly.
There, right at the very edge of the Dark Hollow, where the shadows began, something small and blue was caught on a low branch. It fluttered in the breeze like a tiny flag. Bramble couldn't tell what it was from where he stood, but it certainly hadn't been there this morning.
He took one step closer, then another. His paws felt funny, the way they always did near the Dark Hollow. But that blue thing kept fluttering, and now Bramble could almost make out what it might be.
Almost, but not quite.
He stood there as the sun began to sink, wondering what it could possibly be and why, for the first time he could remember, he rather wanted to know.
And as Hollow Wood grew quiet and the stars came out to watch, it was time to rest — until tomorrow's tale.