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.
“I need an adventure,” he announced to his reflection in the millpond. “Something with maps! And danger! And glittering treasure at the end!” 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
The badger yawned. “This is my dinner table. My crock of nuts. Go find your own tree.” a never-ending supply of fish