Rue’s Lantern Button — Under the quilt-soft dark, Rue tucked a flat pumpkin button into his bow and padded from his burrow with a half-finished lantern basket. Read the full story →
Under the quilt-soft dark, Rue tucked a flat pumpkin button into his bow and padded from his burrow with a half-finished lantern basket. He wanted the porch light to be his own this year, not borrowed from Auntie’s tin lamp. The button was plain orange wood, but his paws had sanded it smooth, and it smelled faintly of cedar shavings and cinnamon tea.
Past the tall grass, the moon meadow whispered shh-shh against his knees. A cheerful bat clicked overhead. “Stem curls grow by the old squash patch,” she called. Rue found one, thin and twisty as a question mark, but it snagged his bow. To free it, he had to cut off a neat strip of ribbon. His neck felt bare in the cool air.
Back home, Rue stitched the ribbon strip around the basket handle, tied on the curl, and fastened the pumpkin button to the front. The lantern glowed wobble-gold, not perfect, but made by his own sticky, careful paws. If you spot a little bear standing proud in the grass, see whether his lantern button still smells of cedar shavings and cinnamon tea.