Who keeps stealing the silver feathers from the sky?
Ellis, a young barn owl, wonders from his pine-tree hollow. Each night, three stars vanish above the hill. Each morning, they return. Ellis refuses to sleep until he catches the thief.
“No bedtime for this detective,” he declares. His eyelids droop like heavy curtains, but he props them open with two pine needles.
A round Moon climbs between the branches. “Those needles look uncomfortable. My voice is soft as a blanket sliding over a bed.”
“I’m guarding the stars. Three disappear in order. Blink, blink, blink!”
“Then investigate,” says Moon. “A fine detective follows clues, not his own tail.”
Ellis scans the sky. The stars stay fixed beside the crooked pine branch. A thief would make them jiggle.
