The Hedgehog Who Collected Stars

At the root of the old oak at the edge of the meadow lived a little hedgehog. His name was Pitir. Pitir's spines were as sharp as any hedgehog's, but there was one difference: at night they glowed.

One night, as Pitir was wandering in the meadow, a star fell from the sky. A tiny, wriggling star. It landed right on Pitir's back, among his spines, and stayed there. Pitir tried to shake it off; the star smiled: "May I stay here? It was very crowded in the sky."

"All right," said Pitir.

The next night another star fell. Then one more. Pitir's back had turned into a small sky. Wherever he walked in the meadow, everything lit up.

One night Pitir heard the sound of crying. Under a bush a little rabbit was huddled up. "I'm afraid of the dark," said the rabbit. "I can't get to my burrow."

Pitir thought. Then he took a star from his back and fixed it to the rabbit's ear. The star shone; the rabbit saw the way and ran home to its burrow.

After that night Pitir wandered the meadow every night. A mouse afraid of the dark, a snail that had lost its way, a duckling looking for its mother... He gave each of them a star. The stars grew fewer, and Pitir's back grew darker.

On the night he gave away the last star, Pitir went back to his nest. His back no longer glowed. He was a little sad. But when he curled up and closed his eyes, something happened: little lights rose from every corner of the meadow. From the rabbit's ear, from the mouse's tail, from the duckling's beak. The stars gathered above Pitir's nest and became a small sky.

"Thank you," they whispered.

Pitir smiled and fell asleep. That night nobody in the meadow was afraid of the dark.

Now look around your room. Perhaps a star is waiting for you.