Deep in Hollow Wood, where the brambles curl and the moon peeks through the leaves, our story begins...
Mrs Thistledown adjusted her elderflower bundle and peered at Bramble through the darkness.
"Ready when you are, dear," she said cheerfully.
Bramble looked at the path that led back into the Hollow. The very same path he'd just come through. The path that had felt like the longest walk of his life only moments ago.
His paws felt heavy again.
"I'll go first," said Mrs Thistledown kindly. "These old eyes know the way rather well. You just follow behind, and if you need to count your steps, that's perfectly all right with me."
So that's what they did.
Bramble counted. One. Two. Three. Past the elderflower clearing. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Through the place where the branches rustled. Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Round the bend where the owl called. Thirty. Thirty-one. Past the mossy stone.
Mrs Thistledown hummed a small tune as she walked.
"You know," she said over her shoulder, "I used to be terribly frightened of thunderstorms. Dreadful business. Hid under my blanket every time."
"What happened?" asked Bramble.
"Nothing, really. I just got tired of hiding, I suppose. Started counting the seconds between the lightning and the thunder instead. Made it feel less enormous somehow." She chuckled. "Still don't much like them. But I don't hide anymore."
Bramble thought about that.
When they reached the wood-edge, Hazel was waiting beneath the old stump. She didn't say anything, just smiled.
Old Oakley was there too, nodding his great grey head.
And Pip, still awake somehow, eyes enormous in the moonlight.
"You did it," Pip whispered. "You really did it."
Bramble gave Mrs Thistledown's elderflower bundle to Pip, who clutched it like treasure and dashed off toward home.
"Well," said Old Oakley quietly, "there we are then."
Bramble sat down. His legs felt rather wobbly.
"I was still frightened," he said. "The whole way through. Both ways."
"Of course you were," said Hazel.
"Being brave isn't not being frightened," rumbled Old Oakley. "It's going anyway. One step. Then another. Then another after that."
Bramble looked back toward the Dark Hollow. It was still dark. Still full of rustles and shadows and sounds he didn't know. But he'd walked through it twice tonight, and the wood was still standing, and so was he.
"Bramble?" Pip had come racing back, breathless. "Will you teach me? About the counting, and the steps, and — " He looked toward the Hollow and bit his lip. "For when I'm ready?"
Bramble felt something warm settle in his chest.
"Yes," he said. "When you're ready. We'll go together."
Hazel grinned. Old Oakley's eyes crinkled at the corners.
And somewhere beyond the wood-edge, past the Dark Hollow and the elderflower clearing and all the paths that wound between, a new adventure was already waiting.
And as Hollow Wood grew quiet and the stars came out to watch, it was time to rest — until tomorrow's tale.