A hedgehog named Hazel had very fine quills.
Not too sharp. Not too soft.
Just right for a hedgehog going about her business.
But when Hazel was sad, something happened to her quills.
They got sharper.
Not a little bit sharper.
A lot sharper.
So sharp that nobody could come near her.
And when nobody could come near her, she got sadder.
And when she got sadder, the quills got sharper still.
Round and round and round. 🦔
🌲 Everyone Kept Away
A rabbit tried to sit beside her.
Ouch.
“Sorry,” said Hazel.
“It’s okay,” said the rabbit, retreating.
A mouse brought her a berry.
Ouch.
“Sorry,” said Hazel.
“It’s okay,” said the mouse, retreating.
A bird tried to land near her.
Ouch.
“Sorry,” said Hazel. “I’m sorry. I’m not doing it on purpose. I just feel very prickly today and I don’t know how to stop.”
She curled into a ball.
All quills out.
Alone in the middle of the forest.
Oh, Hazel.
🦔 A Different Kind of Hug
A very old tortoise named Thomas came slowly, slowly along the path.
He looked at Hazel.
He looked at the quills.
He sat down right beside her — his thick shell facing her side.
He didn’t say anything. He just sat there.
His shell was tough enough.
Hazel peeked out from her ball.
“Won’t I hurt you?”
“I’m a tortoise,” said Thomas simply. “I have a shell. I’m fine.”
He stayed beside her, warm and still and not going anywhere.
Slowly, slowly, Hazel uncurled.
💛 Matthew Sits on the Other Side
Matthew came along the path and found Hazel, uncurled and calmer, Thomas on one side.
Matthew sat down carefully on her other side — just close enough, not too close — and didn’t say anything either.
Hazel looked at Thomas.
Hazel looked at Matthew.
The quills softened. Just a little. Just enough.
“I don’t always know how to say when I’m sad,” said Hazel quietly.
“You don’t have to say it,” said Matthew. “We can just sit.”
And they did.
All three of them.
In the quiet forest.
Until Hazel felt soft again. 🦔