Star Streak trotted around the bight in the river, leaving the crusty shore for trees and soft earth. The sunrise glittered in his white mane as it whipped around his black body. The smell of pine spread with the morning dew and birds twittered their to do lists for the day, but that’s not what Streak was following.
He came to a clearing, the river splitting and lapping lazily around the soft grass and daffodils. In the center was a grand oak, the first tree of this humble forest. Its branches soaked up the morning light, providing shade for the patch of land. And a small child, lying at its roots.
Streak stepped under the tree and toward the child, clenching his feathered wings against his sides. He’d heard about humans, creatures with delicate skin, large eyes, and odd fur. But they could never reach this enchanted forest. The great oak prevented it.
The child was female, short brown hair pulled back with colorful ties. An odd material covered her body, fanning out by her knobby knees. She smelled like gingerbread, hands covered in white powder.
Streak nudged her head with his muzzle. She moaned in response. Star Streak backed away as the human rose, rubbing her head. She seemed ready to speak, but stopped to observe her surroundings. And Streak’s wings.
“No way,” she breathed, eyes wide. Streak clenched his wings and backed away more. The human girl stood. “No, wait. I won’t hurt you.” She patted the blue fabric that clothed her body. Her hand vanished in the material and reappeared with a chunk of cookie. Gingerbread.
She stretched out her hand. “Do you like cookies?”
Streak took her smile as a friendly gesture. Plus, he’d get a cookie out of it. He walked toward her and munched on the sweet.
She pat his muzzle while staring at the surrounding forest. “Now maybe you can help me figure out where Chicago is.”