Deep in Hollow Wood, where the brambles curl and the moon peeks through the leaves, our story begins...
The morning sun was warm on Bramble's nose when Hazel bounded up to his door, her tail flicking with excitement.
"Perfect day for hazel nuts," she announced. "Come on, Bramble. If we hurry through the Dark Hollow, we'll get to the grove before the jays take the best ones."
Bramble's tummy did a little flip. The Dark Hollow. Just the name made his prickles feel prickly.
"Oh," he said, trying to sound cheerful. "Actually, I was thinking we could go the long way. You know, past the stream. The blackberries might be ripe."
Hazel tilted her head. "The blackberries won't be ready for weeks yet."
"Well, yes, but we could check," Bramble said quickly. "And the stream's so pretty this time of year."
Hazel looked at him for a moment, then shrugged. "All right. The long way it is."
They set off together, Bramble chattering perhaps a bit too much about clouds and butterflies and anything else that came into his head. Hazel listened patiently, hopping from root to root beside him.
The long way really was pretty. Sunlight danced on the stream, and a family of ducks paddled past, quacking softly to one another. Bramble felt himself relax. See? The long way was lovely. Nothing wrong with taking your time.
But when they finally reached the hazel grove, Old Oakley was already there, his basket nearly full of glossy brown nuts.
"Morning, young ones," he rumbled kindly. "I'm afraid the jays have been and gone. There are still some nuts left, mind you, just not as many as there were at sunrise."
Bramble and Hazel gathered what they could. The nuts were perfectly fine, of course. Nothing wrong with them at all.
But Bramble couldn't help noticing that several of the best branches were bare, and the ground was scattered with empty shells where the jays had feasted.
On the walk home, Hazel didn't say anything about it. She just hummed a little tune and occasionally cracked a nut between her teeth.
Bramble felt something small and uncomfortable sitting in his chest. Not quite sadness, not quite anger. Just a sort of grey, disappointed feeling that wouldn't go away.
They'd missed the best nuts because of him. Because he'd made them take the long way.
Because he'd been too frightened to walk through the Dark Hollow.
When they reached Bramble's stump, Hazel paused and looked at him with her bright, clever eyes.
"You know," she said gently, "tomorrow's supposed to be sunny too. Perfect nut-gathering weather."
She didn't say anything else. She didn't need to.
"I'll think about it," Bramble said quietly.
Hazel's whiskers twitched in what might have been a smile. "I'll ask you again tomorrow, then."
And as Hollow Wood grew quiet and the stars came out to watch, it was time to rest — until tomorrow's tale.