The Sun Egg

Deep in the soft green wood, a little elf danced over the moss. She wore a leaf for a skirt and a flower petal for a cap. Morning light slipped between the trees and made the dew sparkle.

Suddenly she stopped. There, in a nest of fern fronds, lay a round, shining thing—smooth and bright as a little sun. "Oh!" whispered the elf, eyes wide. "The sun has dropped an egg!"

She ran to fetch her friends. The bumblebee hummed close. The snail peeped from its shell. A hedgehog waddled over. A squirrel leapt down a trunk. Even the magpie clacked her beak and hopped nearer.

They gathered around the golden ball. "It must be treasure," said the magpie. "A very fine golden ball." "It might be a giant berry," said the hedgehog, sniffing. "Or a new kind of nut," guessed the squirrel, tapping it with her paw.

The little elf put her cheek to it. "It is warm," she breathed. "It smells like sunshine. It must be the sun’s egg."

Just then, the thrush flew down from a high branch. He had dust of far places on his wings. "I know that smell," he said, tipping his head. "It comes from a country where the air is warm and the days are long. There, trees wear glossy leaves and grow round, glowing fruit."

"What is it called?" asked the elf.

"An orange," said the thrush. "It drinks the sun and keeps the sweetness inside."

The elf looked from the thrush to the bright round thing. "Orange," she tried, tasting the new word. "But it looks just like a sun egg!"

"Shall we open it and see?" asked the squirrel, her whiskers quivering.

Carefully, carefully, they worked together. The hedgehog pricked the skin with his prickles. The squirrel nibbled a tiny tear. The magpie pecked at the edge. At last, the skin split with a little sigh, and golden juice ran like drops of light.

Inside were neat, moon-shaped pieces, all tucked in a circle. The elf caught one in both hands. She took a nibble. Her eyes shone. "It tastes like warm sunshine," she laughed.

Everyone shared. The bees sipped the sweet drops. The hedgehog smacked his lips. The squirrel tucked a piece in her cheek. Even the snail had a lick. They ate and ate until the elf’s fingers were sticky and her heart was full of gladness.

That night the little elf lay in her moss bed and thought of the faraway trees the thrush had seen. She could almost smell the warm, flower-sweet air. "I wish I could see where sun eggs grow," she whispered to the stars.

"Come with me," said the thrush at dawn. He hopped to the stone by her bed. "I fly south today to visit those groves. Sit light upon my back, little friend."

The elf climbed between his feathered shoulders and held tight. Up they went, higher than the fir tops, above lakes like silver mirrors and fields like green quilts. They flew over a town with red roofs, then over the wide, blue sea where white waves curled like lace.

At last the air turned soft and sweet. Below them lay a land of white houses and dark green trees. The thrush swooped low over a garden. The trees there had shiny, pointed leaves and hung with round fruits, all glowing—some pale, some deep gold.

The little elf stretched out her hand to touch one. "So many sun eggs!" she cried. She saw white starry flowers on the same branches, and bees busy among them. A child passed by with a basket and picked an orange, and the elf hid, giggling softly.

"These are oranges," the thrush told her. "They grow in warm light and drink the sun for you."

The elf pressed a tiny blossom to her cheek. "Thank you, trees," she whispered. "Now I know your secret."

When the light began to soften, the thrush lifted her once more. They flew back over sea and field and forest, home to the cool green wood.

All the friends came running. The elf showed them the little white flower she had brought, and she told them all she had seen: the shining groves, the sweet air, the trees dressed with suns.

"It is not a sun egg after all," she said with a smile. "It is an orange. But it still tastes like sunshine." And whenever the morning poured golden light onto the moss, the little elf and her friends remembered the day they tasted the sun together.