Everyone in the forest knew Gris the wolf. Or rather, everyone knew his pointed ears, his big shadow and the sound of his paws on the leaves. Nobody really knew Gris.
In the evening, in his clearingA space with no trees in the middle of a forest, where you can see the sky., Gris practised. He stood in front of a tree trunk and said, very politely: “Hello, my name is Gris. Would you like to play?” The trunk never answered, but at least it did not run away.
The next day, Gris tried for real. He saw a rabbit, he opened his mouth, and the rabbit was already gone. He saw three blue tits, he took one step, and the three blue tits became three dots in the sky.
“It must be my voice,” thought Gris. So he spoke very softly. That did not work. “It must be my size,” he thought next. So he lay down flat in the grass to be as small as possible. That did not work either.
One rainy evening, Gris heard a tiny sniffle under a fernA tall green plant with feathery leaves that grows in the shade.. It was Pruneau, a soaking wet hedgehogA small animal covered in spines, who rolls into a ball when frightened., lost and not at all pleased about it. “Hello,” said Gris without thinking. “Would you like to shelter under my tummy? It is warm.”
Pruneau looked up. He looked at the big teeth, the pointed ears, the enormous shadow. Then he looked at the eyes, which were worried and kind. And since it really was raining very hard, he said: “All right.”
They stayed there all night, hardly saying a word, listening to the rain falling on the fernA tall green plant with feathery leaves that grows in the shade.s. In the morning, Pruneau yawned and asked: “What are you doing tomorrow?”
Gris did not answer straight away, because his throat felt rather tight. He had searched the whole forest for a friend, practising every single evening. All it took in the end was forgetting to practise, and offering his warm tummy to somebody who was cold.
The end, sweet dreams.
