The Game

She was coy but demanding.

‘Sure, I’ll get it for you. I can pluck it any time you want,’ he was confidence personified.

‘You can’t even reach it.’

“Promise to be my mate and you will have it.’

‘I do.’

He smiled at his cleverness.

‘I am waiting,’ she said impatiently.

He too was waiting and he didn’t have to wait long. As the clouds covered the moon, he brought the glass bead that he had hidden in his burrow for such an eventuality.

She was amazed to hold the moon in her little squirrely hands. He had won, again.

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A post for FridayFictioneers