A Tap on the Golden Floor

Pitter-patter, pitter-pat. Outside, raindrops tapped a cheerful rhythm against the thick bark roof of their sheltered hollow. It sounded like hundreds of tiny fingers drumming in a hurry, but inside, everything was snug, dry, and wonderfully warm.

Chloe sat with her freckled chin propped comfortably in her hands. Her long pink hair tumbled over her shoulders in bright waves, catching the soft glow from the hollow roots below. She wore her fluffy dandelion crown straight on her head, listening to the rain and watching Pip with wide, curious eyes. Blossom fluttered down to the edge of a curved leaf-bench, tucking her transparent wings together until they gave a little twitch in time with the raindrop beat.

Pip stood right at the edge of the smooth amber threshold. His green shirt was pulled neat and tidy, and his little brown stick was tucked securely beneath one arm. With his other hand, he gave his pocket a tiny pat just to be sure his shiny blue pebble was safe and sound. It was.

"Are you going to do the chant, Pip?" Chloe whispered, smiling.

"I am testing it," Pip whispered back, very importantly. "You have to be very gentle with root songs. Roots are sleepy, you know. You must wake them up like you wake up a cozy bumblebee—very politely."

Pip lifted his foot. His tiny fairy shoe hovered for a moment in the warm golden light, and then—tap.

He placed his sole down against the polished resin floor. A low, lilting hum rose from his chest, round and smooth as a honey drop. Mmm-hmmm-dum.

He paused, holding his breath to see if the hollow world beneath their toes had heard him. Blossom leaned forward on her tiptoes, her wand held still. The rain went pitter-pat on the bark overhead, but down in the clover roots, something else was stirring.

Creeeak-squeeeak.

It was not a sharp scrape at all. It was a sweet, melodic little squeak, sounding very much like a dandelion flute blown by a gentle breeze. Down beneath the curled clover stems, the woven birch-twig door slowly turned on its soft bark hinges.

Chloe leaned in closer, careful not to bump her dandelion crown. Pip blinked, his brown stick wobbling in his hand. The door had swung open just a thumb-width wider than before. Out from the opening came a rich, buttery streak of amber light, spilling across the moss and painting the wet clover in ribbons of gold.

"Look," Blossom murmured, her tiny voice chiming like a bell. "The door liked your song, Pip."

"It did!" Pip beamed, puffing out his green shirt with pure delight. "It didn't hide at all! It opened up to listen!"

Chloe gazed into the warm golden slit between the birch twigs. Far below, where the roots tangled into cozy little halls, the warm glow seemed to pulse like a slow, quiet breath, waiting to see what melody the little travelers might hum next.