1Moss spread his picnic cloth beside the river. One leaf plate for berries. One for crunchy shoots. Above him, a little pterosaur watched from a branch. Moss moved a plate. There was room for someone else.
2"Would you like to join me?" Moss called. The pterosaur tucked her wings close. "I'm Wren," she said. "I don't like sitting where I can't see very far." Moss looked at his low, leafy picnic spot.
3"Where would you like to sit?" he asked. Wren pointed her beak toward the hill. "Up there. But it's a long way to carry everything." Moss stretched his neck. "I can carry some."
4Whoosh! A gust lifted an empty leaf plate. It sailed past Moss's nose and skimmed toward the water. "Our plate!" he cried. Wren opened her wings. "I can see where it's going!"
5Wren circled over a shallow bend. "Beside the round stone!" Moss stayed on the bank and reached with his long neck. He caught the leaf before it drifted away. "You found it," he said. "You reached it," said Wren.
6Moss carried the cloth and plates up the hill. Wren carried a small twig of berries. Halfway up, they stopped to catch their breath. "Not too fast," said Wren. "Not too fast," agreed Moss.
7They spread the picnic beneath a branch with a clear view. Moss settled on the grass. Wren perched just above him. Their plates were close enough to share. "Is this a good seat?" asked Moss. "This is a very good seat."
8Below them, the river carried little circles of light. Moss liked crunchy shoots. Wren liked berries. Moss liked grass under his feet. Wren liked air beneath her wings. They liked this afternoon together. Moss left the cloth spread wide.
