Chapter 1

“Good morning, my lovely daisy,” Greg would say each day, giving it a gentle pat with his paw. The daisy seemed to nod back, as if it understood.

But one morning, Greg shuffled out of his cozy burrow, humming a happy tune, and stopped. His eyes widened. The spot where his favorite daisy had stood was now a small, empty hole in the soil. He blinked, thinking he was still half-asleep. He rubbed his eyes. The daisy was definitely gone.

“Oh dear, where has my lovely daisy gone?” Greg whispered, his voice trembling just a little. He looked all around the garden. He checked under the rose bushes, behind the watering can, and even inside his gardening shed. No daisy. His heart felt like a deflated balloon.

Greg decided he needed help. He trotted down the winding path that led to the old oak tree where his friend Squeaky the squirrel lived. Squeaky was always dashing about, collecting acorns or chasing falling leaves. Today, he was hanging upside down from a branch, chattering to a bluebird.

“Squeaky! Squeaky!” Greg called, waving his striped paw.

Squeaky flipped right-side up and scampered down the trunk, his bushy tail bouncing. “Greg! What’s wrong? You look like you lost a whole bag of acorns!”

“Worse,” Greg said. “My favorite daisy is gone. It just vanished during the night.”

Squeaky’s bright eyes darted left and right. “Gone? A whole daisy? That’s strange! I haven’t seen it, but let’s go look in the Whispering Woods! Maybe it blew away there.”

“The Whispering Woods?” Greg said, a little nervously. He had heard stories about that place—trees that murmured secrets, and a grumpy old mole who lived near its edge. He’d never gone there himself.

Just then, Thumper the rabbit hopped over, her soft ears twitching. She had been nibbling clover nearby and heard their conversation. “Perhaps it's near the Whispering Woods? Let's check there,” she said in her gentle voice. “I’ll come with you, Greg. Two sets of eyes are better than one.”

Greg felt a little braver. “Thank you, Thumper. And thank you, Squeaky. Let’s go.”

The three friends set off. The path to the Whispering Woods was lined with ferns and mossy stones. As they got closer, the trees grew taller and their branches intertwined like fingers. A soft rustling sound came from the leaves, as if the forest itself was whispering. Greg’s paws felt a bit sweaty, but he kept walking.

“Look over there!” Squeaky pointed with his tiny paw. Near a gnarled old tree stump, half-hidden under a blanket of fallen leaves, was something yellow. Greg’s heart leaped. He rushed over and pushed the leaves aside. It was his daisy! The petals were a little dusty, but it was still bright and beautiful.

“My daisy!” Greg cried, scooping it up carefully. “But how did it get all the way out here?”

Thumper tilted her head. “It looks like someone carried it. See these marks in the dirt?” She pointed to small, deep footprints that led away from the stump toward a low mound of earth. The mound had a dark hole in its side—a burrow.

Suddenly, a grumpy voice rumbled from inside the burrow. “Who’s out there making all that noise?”

A stout mole with thick claws and a furrowed brow poked his head out. It was Mortimer, the mole everyone whispered about. He squinted in the sunlight and scowled. “Oh, it’s you lot. Well, what do you want?”

Greg held up the daisy. “This is my flower. I think you took it from my garden.”

Mortimer’s face went red. He shuffled his feet and looked down. “Hmph. Just borrowing it. My burrow was looking a bit drab. All that brown dirt gets gloomy, you know. I saw your garden from the edge of the woods and thought one little daisy wouldn’t be missed.”

Greg felt a pang of annoyance, but then he looked at Mortimer’s tired eyes. The mole seemed lonely and sad. Greg remembered how much he loved his own cozy home, filled with flowers and light. Maybe Mortimer needed that too.

“I understand,” Greg said softly. “But you could have asked. I would have said yes.”

Mortimer blinked in surprise. “You… you would?”

“Of course,” Greg said. “I have lots of flowers. In fact, I can bring you some more—to keep your burrow cheerful.”

Mortimer’s grumpy frown softened. A tiny smile crept onto his face. “Well, I… that would be nice. Thank you.”

Greg smiled back. “It’s settled then. I’ll come by tomorrow with a whole bouquet.”

Squeaky bounced up and down. “Hooray! A new friend!”

Thumper gave a gentle nod. “That’s very kind, Greg.”

As the sun began to set, Greg said goodbye to his friends and carried his daisy home. He replanted it in its special spot, giving it a little pat. “Welcome back, lovely daisy.”

That night, as Greg drifted off to sleep, he thought about Mortimer. Maybe the Whispering Woods weren’t so scary after all. And maybe, just maybe, tomorrow would bring a brand new adventure.