Fippa Falls Asleep in the Treetop Nest – A Silbenwald Bedtime Story

High up in Silbenwald, where the oldest oaks stretch their branches wide like open arms, lived Fippa the squirrel. Fippa had been busy all day — leaping from branch to branch, gathering nuts and playing hide-and-seek with Piek the hedgehog. Now, as the great warm lanterns began to glow along the tree trunks and the first fireflies crept out of the moss, Fippa felt her small paws growing heavier. Her eyes were blinking slowly. It was time to find the treetop nest — her very favourite place in the whole wide world.

Fippa began to climb the great oak — step by step, branch by branch. Her little paws gripped the bark safely and steadily, and Silbenwald smelled of damp moss and sweet wood all around her. Down in the bushes below, something rustled. Balduin the badger peered upwards with his kind little eyes and gave Fippa a wave. "Good night, Fippa!" called Balduin in his deep, rumbling voice. "Sleep well up there!" Fippa waved back, smiled to herself and climbed on. Higher and higher. The treetop nest was already waiting for her.

On a branch halfway up sat Piek the hedgehog, curled into a small, prickly ball on a cushion of soft moss. "Fippa, I'm nearly asleep already," Piek murmured quietly. "The wood is so wonderfully still tonight." Fippa settled beside Piek for a moment and listened. And it was true — Silbenwald was perfectly quiet. There was only the gentle hum of the fireflies and the soft, warm flicker of the lanterns. Fippa reached out and stroked Piek carefully with one paw — avoiding the prickles, of course — and whispered, "Sweet dreams, Piek."

Fippa climbed on, higher and higher into the crown of the great oak. The branches grew thinner here and swayed softly in the evening breeze. From this height she could see all of Silbenwald spread out below her — the little lantern lights glimmering between the trees like a thousand tiny stars. And everywhere, everywhere, the fireflies were dancing. They drew their glowing trails through the soft mist, drifting this way and that, as though they were playing a game together. Fippa paused and watched for a long, long moment. Something warm and wide opened up inside her heart.

And then, at last, Fippa reached the top. The treetop nest was round and soft and exactly the right size for one small squirrel. Fippa had built it herself — from dry grass and moss, from a few feathers the owl had given her, and from a piece of smooth, pale birch bark. She climbed in and turned herself in a circle, the way squirrels always do. Then she let herself sink down. The nest gave a gentle bounce. It was warm. It smelled of woodland and of home. Fippa breathed out a long, happy sigh.

High above the treetop nest, the owl sat on an ancient branch and looked down at Fippa with her great round eyes. The owl was the keeper of the night in Silbenwald. Every night she watched over all the woodland creatures so that each one could sleep safely and soundly. "Fippa," said the owl in her calm, deep voice, "I am keeping watch tonight. You need not worry about a thing. Close your eyes and rest." Fippa looked up at the owl and nodded — very slowly, so slowly that you could tell just how tired she really was.

Far below, at the foot of the great oak, the fox was padding quietly through Silbenwald. He had a coat of soft red fur and a bushy tail with a small white tuft at its tip that gleamed in the dark. He moved without a sound, so as not to wake a single soul. As he passed the oak, he glanced upwards. He could barely make out the treetop nest in the darkness — but he smiled all the same. For the fox knew that when Fippa was tucked into her nest, everything in Silbenwald was exactly as it should be.

Fippa lay in her warm treetop nest and felt Silbenwald wrap itself around her like a great, gentle blanket. The evening breeze stroked the leaves. The branches rocked slowly and softly — back and forth, back and forth. Fippa closed her eyes a little. Then a little more. Outside, the fireflies pulsed up and down, up and down, their light so steady, so easy, so calm. Fippa breathed in — and breathed out. In and out. Slower and slower. Quieter and quieter.

Down below in Silbenwald, Balduin the badger was humming a tiny lullaby to himself — so softly, so softly, you could barely hear it at all. Piek the hedgehog had been asleep for a long while, breathing gently and evenly. The owl sat still upon her branch. The fox had vanished into the mist. All of Silbenwald was sleeping. And Fippa, high up in her treetop nest, felt nothing now but the warmth of the nest around her, the slow rocking of the tree, and the faintest glimmer of fireflies behind her closed eyelids.

Fippa fell asleep. Gently and deeply. The treetop nest held her warm and safe, high above all of Silbenwald. And perhaps — if you close your eyes right now — you might see the fireflies too. There they are, glowing softly, just for you. The warm lanterns are burning. The wood is still. Everything is all right. Sleep now, just as Fippa sleeps. Warm. Safe. Held. Good night.