A Little Bit Scared

The rustling leaves seemed to whisper secrets now, not happy chatter. The sunlight, which had been so warm and inviting just moments ago, now cast long, dancing shadows that looked like shadowy creatures lurking just out of sight. Tiggy’s playful pounce had turned into a cautious tiptoe. The jungle, usually alive with the screeches of parrots, the trumpeting of elephants, and the chattering of monkeys, had fallen into a deep, slumbering hush. It was a quiet so profound it felt like a blanket, heavy and muffling, draped over everything.

Tiggy’s ears twitched, straining to hear a familiar sound, any familiar sound. He listened for the giggles of his monkey friends swinging through the trees, the squawks of his parrot pals painting the sky with vibrant color, or even the gentle rumble of his elephant friend’s happy trumpeting. But there was nothing. Only the soft sigh of the wind through the leaves and the distant hum of insects, a sound that suddenly seemed lonely instead of lively.

He remembered how much fun it had been to chase butterflies with his friends, to splash in the cool river, to tumble and roll in the soft jungle grass. Now, the grass felt damp and a little bit creepy under his paws. The river, usually a cheerful gurgler, seemed to murmur secrets he couldn’t understand. He felt a prickle of unease crawl up his spine, like a tiny, ticklish bug.