High up in the arms of a very old oak tree, there was a cozy hole that was just the right size for a little owl. Inside the hole, the floor was covered in soft green moss and fluffy feathers. It was the warmest, safest place in the whole forest. The little owl loved the nest. The little owl loved the way the wood smelled like rain and sunshine. Every evening, when the sun went down and the sky turned the color of a blue grape, the little owl would peek out. The world outside looked very big. The trees were very tall, and the wind made the leaves dance and swirl. The little owl stayed inside, where it was safe and snug.
One night, the moon was very round and very bright. It looked like a giant silver coin hanging in the sky. The moon sent a long, glowing ribbon of light right down to the little owl’s tree. The light landed on a branch just outside the hole. On that branch sat a tiny, silver moth. The moth was very beautiful. Its wings were like little pieces of silk. The little owl watched the moth from inside the dark hole. The little owl wanted to see the moth’s wings up close. But to do that, the little owl had to step out of the nest. The little owl felt a little bit shaky. The branch seemed so high, and the night seemed so wide.
‘I can do it,’ the little owl thought. ‘I can be brave.’ The little owl took one tiny step. The moss under its feet was soft. The little owl took another step. Now, its beak was poking out into the night air. The air felt cool and fresh on its face. It smelled like pine trees and sleeping flowers. The little owl’s heart went thump-thump, thump-thump. It was a big thing to be a little owl in such a large world. But the silver moth was still there, dancing in the moonlight. The little owl wanted to be brave like the moth, who was so small but flew so high.
With a deep breath, the little owl hopped. It was a very small hop, but it was a very big deal. Now, both of the little owl’s feet were on the branch. The wood felt rough and strong under its toes. The little owl stretched its wings. The wings were long and covered in soft, speckled feathers. When the little owl flapped them, they made a gentle sound, like the pages of a book turning. *Whir, whir, whir.* The little owl looked down and saw the grass far below, looking like a soft green carpet. Then, the little owl looked up and saw the stars. There were thousands of them, twinkling like tiny birthday candles.
The little owl felt a wonderful feeling inside. It was a warm, bubbly feeling. It was the feeling of being brave. The forest wasn’t scary at all; it was full of magic. The little owl walked a little further along the branch. The silver moth flew in a circle around the owl’s head and then fluttered away into the trees. The little owl wasn't afraid anymore. The night was a friend. The wind was a song. The little owl sat on the silver branch for a long time, watching the clouds drift past the moon. Being brave meant trying something new, even if your tummy felt a little fluttery.
Soon, the little owl began to feel very sleepy. It had been a big night of adventuring. The little owl hopped back into the cozy hole. The nest felt even softer than before. The little owl fluffed up its feathers and turned around three times until it found the perfect, comfy spot. The big owl came home and tucked a warm wing over the little owl. The little owl felt safe, happy, and very proud. Outside, the moon kept watch over the forest, and the stars kept twinkling. The little owl closed its big, round eyes and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep, dreaming of silver moths and the beautiful, wide sky.
