Kestrel’s Shadow-Tag Chase — Each dusk, Kestrel skimmed the reed meadow and played Shadow-Tag, a game she had invented: touch the shadow of a cattail, a cloud, a beetle, then race home before the frogs finished three croaks. Read the full story →
Each dusk, Kestrel skimmed the reed meadow and played Shadow-Tag, a game she had invented: touch the shadow of a cattail, a cloud, a beetle, then race home before the frogs finished three croaks. The grass hissed under her wings, and the air smelled like mud and mint. She wanted to tag the trickiest shadow in the meadow. One evening, a mouse-shadow zipped where no mouse-path should be.
“Wait—new rule!” Kestrel cried, and dived after it. Because of that, the mouse bolted through grass tunnels, flicking his tail like a little gray question mark. Because of THAT, Kestrel noticed every tunnel pointed to the same soggy mound, where water gurgled under a jam of reeds and one shiny latch poked out.
At last, she tagged the latch’s shadow and tugged it free with her claws. Water rushed into the dry ditch with a cold slap, and the mouse popped up on the safe bank, whiskers shining. Next dusk, if you spot the tiny runner under the wide wings, you’ll know Shadow-Tag still begins where the grass hisses.