Read Flicker's Forest free: the opening chapter

The Lost Glow

The last of the sun dipped behind the tallest trees in Whispering Woods, painting the leaves in shades of orange and gold. Flicker blinked, testing his light. Usually, it was a cheerful little spark, enough to guide him through the twilight. But tonight… tonight it felt small. Very small.

He was practicing his blinking patterns near the babbling brook, hoping to impress Barnaby. Barnaby, his best friend, loved watching Flicker’s lights dance with the fireflies. “Almost got the double twinkle down,” Flicker mumbled to himself, squeezing his tiny light-producing bottom. Nothing. Just a weak, pale glimmer.

“Oh dear,” he whispered. Flicker tried again. And again. Each attempt brought a smaller, fainter glow. It wasn’t gone completely, not yet, but it felt like a candle about to be snuffed out by a breeze. A shiver ran through him, not from cold, but from worry.

Barnaby was busy humming a happy tune, carefully arranging blueberries on a tiny pie crust. His burrow smelled of warm sugar and sweet berries. Flicker usually loved visiting Barnaby when he was baking, but tonight he hesitated. What if Barnaby noticed his dim light? What if he laughed?

“Barnaby?” Flicker called, his voice barely a squeak.

Barnaby popped his head out of the burrow, a smudge of blueberry juice on his nose. “Flicker! There you are! Come try a sample. Just out of the oven.”

Flicker fluttered closer, trying to hide the weakness of his glow behind a large fern. Barnaby didn’t seem to notice at first. “So, how’s the double twinkle coming?” Barnaby asked, offering a miniature pie slice.

Flicker took a bite, the sweet flavor doing little to ease his growing panic. “It’s… it’s not working, Barnaby. My light… it’s getting dimmer.”

Barnaby’s cheerful face clouded with concern. He gently took Flicker's tiny hand. "Dimmer? Let me see." He peered closely, tilting his head. "Oh, Flicker. That is quite faint."

Flicker’s heart thumped like a hummingbird’s wings. “I don’t know what’s happening!” he cried. “What if it goes out completely? What if I can’t shine anymore?” He squeezed his eyes shut, a tear tracing a path down his face. Barnaby put an arm around him.

“Now, now,” Barnaby said softly. “Don’t you worry. We’ll figure this out. Maybe Celeste can help.” Barnaby glanced towards the tallest oak tree, where Celeste the owl usually perched. “She knows everything about the woods. But… she’s awfully high up.” Flicker looked up. The oak did seem very, very tall. And he was very, very afraid of heights.

Seeking Help

“I don’t know what’s happening!” he cried. “What if my light goes out? What if I can’t shine at all?” A tear slipped down his face. Barnaby put an arm around him.

“Now, now,” Barnaby said gently. “We’ll figure this out. Maybe Celeste can help.” Barnaby looked towards the tallest oak tree, where Celeste the owl usually rested. “She knows everything about the woods. But… it is a very tall tree.” Flicker looked up. The oak seemed enormous, and he was terribly afraid of heights.

A little breeze stirred the leaves, and Flicker shivered. He imagined trying to fly up, up, up, the ground shrinking below until Whispering Woods looked like a green patch. He pictured getting dizzy, losing his grip, tumbling down… He shook his head, trying to push the thought away.

“I… I can’t, Barnaby,” Flicker stammered. “It’s too high. My wings feel wobbly just thinking about it.” He tucked his wings close.

Barnaby frowned, thoughtfully chewing a blueberry stem. “Hmm. That is a climb. But Celeste is the wisest creature in the woods. If anyone can help your light, it’s her.” He paused. “Perhaps Rosie could come with us? She’s a strong flier, and very brave.”

Just then, a flash of red fur and a bushy tail burst into the burrow. Rosie the squirrel skidded to a halt, bumping a stack of mixing bowls. “Did someone say brave? I’m always brave!” She chattered excitedly. “What’s going on?”

Barnaby explained about Flicker’s dimming light and their plan to ask Celeste for help. Rosie listened, her bright eyes sparkling.

“Celeste? Easy! I can zoom up that tree in a flash!” She puffed out her chest.

Flicker felt a little better knowing Rosie would be there, but the thought of the climb still made his wings tremble. He wished he could be as fearless as she was.

Rosie bounced, nearly knocking over the mixing bowls. “We should make crumble! Tiny bits of sweet dough, baked until golden and crunchy. We’ll sprinkle them on top and bake it again. They’ll soak up the juice and make a lovely, crispy topping.”

Barnaby’s ears perked up. “Crumble? I… I’ve never made crumble before.”

“Perfect!” Rosie chirped. “A new baking adventure! Flicker, you can help too. Maybe a little warmth from your light will help the crumble crisp up.”

Flicker hesitated. His light felt small, barely a glow. “I… I don’t know, Rosie. It’s pretty dim. I might not be much help.”

Barnaby put a paw on Flicker’s shoulder. “Don’t say that, Flicker! Even a little light is helpful. Besides,” he added with a smile, “we need you here. That’s what matters most.”

Before Flicker could protest, Rosie had tied a tiny apron around his middle and handed him a bowl of flour. “Alright, little light! Let’s get baking!” But as the three friends began to mix and stir, Flicker noticed something strange about Rosie. She wasn’t her usual bouncy self. She kept glancing at the oak tree, a worried look on her face. And every few moments, she quickly scanned the forest floor, as if she’d lost something.

The sample ends here.