Up the Mountain
One bright autumn morning, a little girl named Nia pulled on her sunny yellow raincoat and her favourite green rubber boots. Grandma needed mushrooms for her warm, golden soup, and Nia had promised to find them. She picked up her small wicker basket and set off up the mountain path. The air was cool and smelled of pine trees and damp earth, and birds sang somewhere high in the branches.
Nia climbed past tall ferns and soft green moss, humming a little tune as she went. Every now and then she stopped to listen to the wind whispering through the leaves. Before long, she found her very first mushrooms. They grew in a tidy little ring at the foot of an old oak tree, their caps round and brown.
Nia knelt down on the leaves and placed three plump mushrooms gently into her basket, one by one.
“These are just right for Grandma,” she said, smiling down at her basket.
But Nia did not yet know that the mountain had a wonderful surprise waiting just for her.
A Voice in the Leaves
As Nia searched the mossy ground for more mushrooms, she heard a small, squeaky voice close beside her.
“Good morning to you, little one!”
Nia spun all the way around, but there was no one there at all. Then she heard a tiny giggle, and she looked up. On a low, mossy log sat a red squirrel. He had a big bushy tail, tufted ears, and a soft cream tummy.
His bright black eyes twinkled, and he waved one little paw at her.
“Did you just talk to me?” Nia whispered, her eyes growing round.
“Of course I did,” said the squirrel, twitching his bushy tail.
He hopped a little closer along the log.
“My name is Pip, and I know every single mushroom on this whole mountain.”
The Good and the Bad
Pip scampered down from the log and landed softly beside Nia's green boots. He pressed his little nose close to the brown mushrooms in her basket and gave them a good sniff.
“Ah, these brown ones are good and safe. They will make a wonderful soup,” he said with a kind smile.
Just then, Nia spotted the prettiest mushroom she had ever seen. It had a bright red cap covered in little white spots, and she reached out her hand to pick it. Quick as a flash, Pip leaped in front of her fingers.
“Stop! Please do not touch that one!” cried Pip, his tail puffed up with worry.
Nia froze, her hand still in the air.
“The red one with white spots is only for looking at, never for eating. It can make you very sick. Up here on the mountain, we always leave the pretty ones right where they grow,” he explained, his little voice soft and serious.
Nia nodded slowly. She felt very glad that her new friend had been watching so closely.
The Drizzle
They had not gone much further when soft rain began to fall, pattering gently on the leaves above. Nia felt cold drops on her nose, and she shivered.
“This way, quickly! Follow me!” called Pip, darting between the roots.
He led Nia under a giant mushroom that was almost as tall as a stool, with a wide cap like a little roof. They sat close together underneath it, warm and dry, and watched the rain make silver rings in a puddle. Pip told Nia funny stories about the cheeky birds and the sleepy hedgehogs of the forest, and Nia laughed and laughed.
Then she tucked up her knees and asked a question that had been bubbling inside her.
“Do you live up here all by yourself, Pip?”
Pip shook his furry head and pointed a paw high up into the dripping branches above them.
“Oh no, my whole family lives up in the tall pine tree. But I am the only one brave enough to say hello to a visitor from the village,” he said with a proud little chuckle.
By the time the last raindrops had fallen, the two of them were the very best of friends. Then the sun peeked out from behind a cloud, and every single leaf sparkled with raindrops.
A Basket Full
Now Pip scurried this way and that, showing Nia all the very best hiding places. He found fat mushrooms under fallen logs, beside curling roots, and tucked into cosy corners of green moss.
“Here is a good one. Oh, and another over here!” he chirped, darting from spot to spot.
Some had wide flat caps, and some were small and round like little buttons. Nia gathered each one up, careful and gentle, until her little basket was full right to the very top with good brown mushrooms. She had never seen so many in all her life.
“Thank you, Pip. I could never have found all these without you,” she said warmly, hugging the heavy basket to her chest.
The Way Home
By now the sky was turning soft and golden, and long shadows stretched across the path. It was time for Nia to go home for supper. Pip climbed up onto a low branch so that he was almost eye to eye with her, and he pointed down the winding path with his little paw.
“Follow the path down past the old oak tree, and it will lead you safely home,” said Pip from his branch.
Nia hugged her basket and smiled up at her new friend.
“I will come back to visit you very soon, I promise,” she said, hugging her basket close.
And as Nia walked carefully down the mountain, Pip waved his big bushy tail from the branch until she was all the way out of sight. That night, Grandma's mushroom soup was the most delicious she had ever tasted. And as Nia drifted off to sleep, she dreamed of the kind little red squirrel who could talk, high up on the quiet, misty mountain.