Harry Hops stared at the feather. He thought of a million wishes: a nest made of gold, a never-ending supply of fish, the ability to fly backwards. But then he smiled.
With a trembling beak, he opened the little chest. Inside, there was no gold. No jewels. No silver coins. harry hops auf schatzsuche
His next stop was the giant oak tree. The map said: “The tallest lookout holds the lock, but beware the guard with a mighty crock.” Harry Hops stared at the feather
Harry fit the rusty key into the lock. Click! With a trembling beak, he opened the little chest
“A trade?” Harry offered. “A delicious, juicy, non-nut thing for the… uh… seat you’re sitting on?”
And as he hopped all the way home, he couldn’t wait to be bored again. Because you never know when a rusty tin can might blow your way.
And tucked under the feather was a note written in elegant, swirling letters:
