The gentle little wolf and the moon

In the forest there lived a little grey wolf named Tuft. He had big pointed ears and a very fluffy tail. Every evening, he climbed up on his rock to say goodnight to the moon with a howl. But his howl came out tiny: "Ooo." Like a draught blowing across a bottle.

One evening, two bunnies passing by heard him. "The wolf!" they cried, and they raced into their burrow, flip, flop, flip, flop.

Tuft sighed. He didn't want to frighten anyone. He only wanted to say goodnight.

He came down from his rock on velvet paws. He went to the burrow and knocked with the tip of his paw: knock, knock. Nobody answered. So he put a leaf with three blackberries in front of the entrance, and whispered, "Goodnight, bunnies." Then he went away without a sound.

Further on, an owl was dozing on a branch. He opened one eye. "Hoo, hoo. That's the smallest howl I've ever heard." "I know," said Tuft. "Howl again, let's see." Tuft howled: "Ooo." And the owl answered: "Hoo, hoo." Ooo, hoo hoo. Ooo, hoo hoo. It made a lovely duet.

In the pond, a frog began to sing along: "Ribbit!" The crickets in the grass added: "Chirp, chirp, chirp." The whole forest filled with a little evening choir, soft and steady.

After a while, two pink noses poked out of the burrow. Then two pairs of ears. The bunnies came out, a bit shy, with the leaf of blackberries between them. "Was that you, the wolf?" "Yes," said Tuft. "I'm saying goodnight to the moon." The bunnies sat down beside him, pressed together, and looked up at the sky.

The moon, round and yellow, shone above the trees. Tuft yawned. Mummy Wolf arrived without a sound, gently picked him up by the scruff of his neck, the way you carry a cub, and took him back to the den.

In the dark, there was one last "hoo...", a tiny "ribbit", a "chirp" deep in the grass. Then nothing but the sound of Tuft breathing, fast asleep, his tail over his nose.