Piek the Hedgehog and the Warm Leaf House

Deep in Silbenwald, where the glow-worms light their tiny lamps each evening and warm lanterns sway gently from the old oak trees, there lived a little hedgehog called Piek. Piek had a round, soft tummy and a great many brown spines across his back. He always wore a dark-green acorn-cap hat and an orange woollen scarf that he loved more than almost anything. Every evening, Piek would lift his small pink nose and sniff the air. "Tonight smells of something important," he would say. And tonight, the air smelled of something very particular indeed — the very first breath of winter.

Piek trotted through Silbenwald, his little paws pattering over the damp moss. All around him the glow-worms shone like scattered gold, and a soft mist drifted between the trees like a great, billowing blanket. Piek knew that when the air grew this cold, it would soon be time to sleep — a long, deep, all-winter sleep. But for that he would need a house. A soft, warm, wonderfully snug house made of leaves. "Where shall I ever find the finest leaves in all of Silbenwald?" he wondered, pulling his orange scarf a little tighter. The lanterns in the branches swayed gently in the breeze, almost as if they were trying to show him the way.

Perched on a thick tree root sat Fippa the squirrel, her bushy tail bouncing back and forth, a large red acorn clasped in her paws. "Piek! Piek!" Fippa called out cheerfully. "Where are you hurrying off to?" Piek stopped and explained: "I'm looking for the most beautiful leaves in all of Silbenwald to build my winter house, Fippa. It's going to be very cold very soon." Fippa thought for a moment, then began hopping excitedly on her root. "Oh, I know just the place! By the great beech tree at Silver Lake — that's where the thickest, driest leaves lie. They rustle so beautifully, Piek!" Piek thanked her warmly and trotted on, while Fippa waved him goodbye.

The path to Silver Lake took Piek past a small earthen mound, where Balduin the badger was scraping at the ground with his strong, broad paws, humming quietly to himself. Balduin was striped grey and white, with kind, dark eyes. "Good evening, young Piek," he rumbled contentedly. "Are you looking for your winter quarters too?" Piek nodded eagerly. Balduin gave a warm, rolling laugh. "Do you know what? I'll help you. I'll dig you a little hollow in the earth, so that the bottom of your leaf house is just as soft as the top." Piek beamed with delight. With Balduin's powerful badger paws and Piek's own busy little hedgehog feet, together they would build the finest leaf house in all of Silbenwald.

At Silver Lake, the fallen leaves rustled like tiny kisses in the breeze. There were red leaves and golden leaves and brown leaves, so very many that Piek could only stare in wonder. The mist lay soft on the still water, and the glow-worms danced above the surface like a scattering of little stars. "So many!" Piek whispered, quite in awe. He began to gather the most beautiful, the thickest leaves he could find, nudging them together with his nose, sometimes rolling briefly amongst them to test how soft they were. Yes — these leaves smelled of earth and forest and the whole long autumn. That was exactly right for a cosy winter house.

Piek carried the leaves back, one armful at a time, to the hollow that Balduin had dug. Balduin helped layer them in carefully: first a bed of thick oak leaves, then beech leaves on top, and finally the softest leaves from Silver Lake right at the very top. Piek's little paws trembled with excitement. The house grew softer and rounder and cosier with every layer. Fippa came by once more and brought a few dry stems of grass to make the roof even snugger. "Now the wind can't get in," said Fippa, looking very pleased with herself. Piek bumped his nose gently against hers and said, "Thank you, Fippa. Thank you, Balduin. I'm so glad to have such good friends."

By the time the leaf house was finished, Silbenwald had grown very quiet. High up in the darkness, the owl called out just once: "Huuu — good night, Piek." Piek lifted his small nose and called softly back, "Good night, Owl!" A fox slipped past along the edge of the path, his bushy tail like a flame of red in the lantern-light. He gave Piek a friendly nod as he passed. Now Silbenwald was gentle and dark, and only the glow-worms still shone — as though they were keeping Piek company until he fell asleep. Piek yawned. It had been a long, lovely, busy evening.

Piek crept carefully inside his leaf house. The leaves rustled softly around him, almost like a little song. Inside, it was dark and warm and wonderfully, perfectly soft. Piek curled himself into a tight, neat ball — spines on the outside, warm tummy tucked safely in the middle. His orange scarf was still wound about him, keeping him especially cosy. Through the tiny gaps between the leaves, he could just make out a single glow-worm's light, blinking slower and slower, calmer and calmer. The little light drifted gently back and forth, as though it too were almost ready to sleep. Piek smiled, just a small, quiet smile.

Outside, the mist drifted silently through Silbenwald. The lanterns in the trees still glowed, but their light was soft and far away now. Piek could hear nothing but the gentle sighing of the wind and the occasional whisper of a leaf settling somewhere to the ground. Everything grew quieter and quieter. The thoughts in Piek's head slowed and grew drowsy. He thought of Fippa, and of Balduin, of the owl and the fox. How lovely it was to have friends in Silbenwald. How warm his leaf house was. How soft the leaves felt beneath his little paws.

Piek breathed in, slowly and deeply. And out again. Once. And once more. The leaves rustled, very, very softly. Silbenwald was almost asleep. The glow-worms were already sleeping. Even the lanterns dimmed a little, as though they were quietly closing their eyes. Piek was warm and safe and completely at home inside his leaf house. And so little Piek the hedgehog drifted off to sleep — a deep, beautiful, dreaming sleep — for the whole long winter night. Perhaps even a little longer than that. Safe and loved and perfectly, peacefully still.