The Little Roof
The rain stopped all at once. Kit stepped out from under the big fir, and the whole forest was dripping. Drops slid off every leaf and caught the starlight. Sunny shook her honey-gold fur and sat down in the wet moss, still smiling. Kit held out one hand. A drop landed in their palm, cold and round. Above them the clouds slid away like a blanket pulled back, and the stars came out slowly, one by one.
Kit walked where the moss was softest, counting puddles. Then they stopped. Low beside a root, a patch of moss was glowing. Tiny green lights sat in it like crumbs of morning. Kit knelt down close. Sunny leaned in too, and her nose went pale green in the glow. Drip. A fat drop fell from the branch above. One little light blinked out, then came back, smaller. Drip. Another light dimmed. "They're getting rained on," Kit said.
Kit looked up at the branch. The water gathered there and let go, drop after drop, right onto the glowing moss. Nobody else was coming to move it. Kit stood and brushed their knees. "They need a roof," they said. "A small one." Sunny padded along behind as Kit gathered sticks from under the fir. Two long ones. Three short ones. A curl of bark, wide as a dinner plate and dry on the inside. Just one more stick, and then we'll see.
Kit leaned the sticks together over the lights, like a little tent. They laid the bark on top. It sat there for one whole breath. Then the sticks slid, and the bark slid, and the whole thing flopped into the moss with a soft wet sound. The green lights went on glowing underneath, patient. Sunny snuffled at the fallen bark. Kit sighed and sat back on their heels. "Not like that, then," they said. The drip came again. Drip. Drip.
Kit looked around while they thought. The rain had stopped falling, but the forest was still emptying itself, slowly. Water ran down the tall ferns and dripped off their tips, away from their roots. Every fern was shaped like a little green roof. Kit tipped their head. Then they picked up one long stick and pushed it deep into the soft ground beside the moss, until it stood up on its own and did not wobble. "There," Kit said. "Something to lean on."
Kit leaned the bark against the standing stick, curved side up, sloping down like a fern leaf. They pressed the low edge into the moss so it could not slide. They wedged a short stick underneath to hold the slope. Sunny set one broad paw on top, gently, while Kit packed moss along the back. The bark stayed. Kit lifted their hands away slowly, the way you do. Just one more stick, and then we'll see. The roof held.
Drip. The drop landed on the bark and ran down the curve and off the edge, into the moss, away from the lights. Another drop did the same. Kit watched three more go, just to be sure. Under the little roof the green lights stopped blinking. They steadied. Then they grew, soft and sure, until the whole patch shone like a window with a lamp behind it. Sunny's fur went green-gold all down one side. Kit grinned at her in the glow.
The light spilled out along the ground and showed the path home, every root and every puddle. Kit walked slowly, because walking slowly was nicer. Behind them the little roof stood over the little lights, and the branch above went on dripping onto bark instead of moss. Kit yawned. Their hands smelled of wet bark and moss. Sunny made a low warm sound and knelt down in the needles. Just one more stick, and then we'll see, Kit mumbled, almost asleep.
Kit climbed onto Sunny's broad back and lay down flat, arms around her neck. She stood up carefully, the way you carry something you do not want to wake. Step. Step. Step. The stars leaned over the trees to watch them go. Far behind, a small green glow stayed lit under its small bark roof. Kit's eyes closed. Sunny walked on through the soft dripping dark, slow and steady, carrying them all the way home.
