On the third day of December

At the onset of dusk, the little bearded fellow scurried off upon an errand, passing as he did a fine, high pine1 tree, a little set apart within the forest. A light wind blew. In an annulus, around the base of its trunk, lay a broad mesh of frosted needles and cones.

A tiny treecreeper, on the other side of the trunk from the path the little bearded fellow took, was investigating a furrow in the bark. Pecking...

Ruminating, with head askew, upon the best angle for a thin, curved, beak to ascertain whether there lay something in a little hole there...


Proceeding helically a few steps up the trunk...


The treecreeper stopped. Fluttered a few startled inches away from the trunk; and floated back — through a little crevice it saw a pool of light. Like liquid sap, with a mystical hue. A mellifluous infusion of not-quite-orange in transparency.

Bewildered, the treecreeper flew from the furrow to the dense foliage at the top of the tree. What was it, that light?

It resolved, after a time, to try another spot. Finding a likely cleft a little further down the trunk than before, it once more began to nick away at a hole. Dark fell, but the treecreeper continued —

It was through... Again, the peculiar light was there!

The treecreeper peered a little longer this time. Was it just its own breath — warmed by its work — upon the cold air of the night, or did the light seem to emanate fine threads of steam?

Was it just angles of moonlight through the forest upon it, shifting at the caprice of the breeze, or did the light seem to simmer?

The treecreeper took off for its nest and repose. It would dream, deeply and expansively — novel, strange dreams.

This is the third part of an episodic tale written in November and December 2022. Previous part. Next part.

Footnotes (terms in Norwegian)

  1. Furu.

Last updated: 01:49 (GMT+1), 4th December 2022