Zuri's Prickles Make a Nest

Pop! Zuri patted her new bed with both paws. Zuri was a little hedgehog with a brown nose, four small paws, and a coat full of prickles. She lived in a warm burrow under a wide green hill, with Mama and her big brother Nico. All summer she had slept in a little mossy basket beside Mama's bed.

Tonight was different. Tonight she had a big bed of her own. It was white and puffy, and it smelled of fresh laundry, like a cloud that had just come in off the line. "Big bed," said Zuri. "Big bed for a big hedgehog."

Her old basket sat in the corner, small and round and empty. It still smelled of moss and warm summer. Zuri gave it one soft pat. "Goodnight, basket," she said.

Mama pulled the blanket up to Zuri's chin. The blanket was soft and smooth and cool. Zuri wiggled her toes. Shhh, went the big bed. Shhh, shhh, shhh. "There," said Mama. "I'm right through the door."

Zuri lay still and listened. The burrow was quiet. The big bed felt very wide, wide as a field. She rolled left. She rolled right. The blanket slid off her toes and landed on the floor with a little flump.

Through the wall she heard Nico turn over. Creak, went his little bed. Then everything was quiet again.

Pop! Zuri patted her pillow into a little hill. Pop, pop! She set her head on it and pulled the blanket up again. Down it slid. Up she pulled. Down it slid.

"Mama," said Zuri. "My blanket won't stay." Mama came in and tucked it in flat and smooth, all the way down both sides. "There," she said. But when Mama went out, the blanket slid down again, slow and smooth as a sigh.

Nico peeped around the door. "When I got my big bed," he said, "I couldn't get cozy either." He yawned a wide yawn. "Aaah. So I made a nest."

"How?" asked Zuri. "I don't know," said Nico. "I just did." And he yawned again and padded off to his own bed.

Zuri thought about nests. She wiggled down into the big bed. She pulled the blanket up to her nose. Then she curled up tight, the way hedgehogs do, with her chin on her paws and her back up high. Shhh, went the big bed. Shhh, shhh, shhh.

Pop! One prickle caught the edge of the blanket. Pop! Another prickle caught the other side. The blanket stayed up in a little tent, all around her, snug as a nest.

"Oh!" said Zuri. "My prickles hold it!" She rolled left. The blanket stayed. She rolled right. The blanket stayed.

Mama came to look. "Well," she said. "What a snug little nest." "It's my prickles," said Zuri. "They're bumpy and they stick out. And in a big bed they're just right."

Zuri patted the blanket with one paw. Shhh, went the big bed. Shhh, shhh, shhh.

Zuri yawned a big yawn. Aaah. Her eyes went soft and heavy.

Out of the window the moon shone up through the clouds, round and white and slow. The clouds were soft as a blanket. The room smelled of fresh laundry and warm milk. Mama sat on the edge of the bed and hummed a low, round hum.

"Shhh," said Mama. "Shhh, shhh, shhh." Zuri's paws went still. Her prickles lay down flat. The big bed was big and soft, and her nest was small and warm.

The moon looked in at the window. The blanket stayed up. And Zuri slept, curled up small, with her nose tucked under her prickly, bumpy, just-right nest.