Flopsy and Littlefoot: Sisters in the Meadow

Flopsy loved the meadow in spring. The grass was soft, the wildflowers were opening, and there were always new paths to explore. This morning, she had plans to follow one of them all the way to the big willow tree.

“Where are we going?” asked Littlefoot.

Flopsy glanced over her shoulder. Her little sister was already hopping after her, with a daisy tucked behind one ear.

“I’m going to the willow tree,” Flopsy said.

“I’ll come too!”

Flopsy stopped. Littlefoot came so close that she bumped into her tail.

“You can’t always come with me,” Flopsy said. “Sometimes I want to go on my own.”

Littlefoot’s ears drooped. “I won’t get in the way.”

But Flopsy remembered the last time they had explored together. Littlefoot had wanted to stop at every flower, ask about every rustle and take home three pebbles that looked exactly alike.

“I won’t be long,” Flopsy said, and hopped off before Littlefoot could answer.

For a while, it was just as Flopsy had hoped. She could go as quickly as she liked. She leapt over a fallen branch, raced the shadows of the clouds and reached the top of a grassy rise without stopping once.

George the Bee was visiting the clover there. He gave her a cheerful wave.

“Morning, Flopsy! Where’s Littlefoot?”

“Back by the garden,” said Flopsy. “I’m exploring on my own today.”

George buzzed alongside her as she started down the other side of the rise. “Sounds like you have somewhere to be.”

“The willow tree,” Flopsy said. “I think I’ve found a new way there.”

The path narrowed between tall grass and disappeared around a bend. Flopsy hurried on, eager to see where it led. When she reached the bend, she found a shallow stream across her way. The willow tree stood on the far bank, its long branches swaying gently in the breeze.

Flopsy searched for a place to cross. She tried the bank upstream, then downstream, but the water ran right to the edge on both sides. It was too wide for her to jump.

“You could turn back,” George said.

“I know.” Flopsy sat down with a sigh. After all that rushing, the willow tree still seemed very far away.

A moment later, the grass behind them began to rustle.

Littlefoot emerged, breathing hard. Her daisy was hanging sideways, and there were burrs caught in her fur.

“I thought you wanted to stay behind,” Flopsy said.

“I did stay behind. For a bit.” Littlefoot looked at the stream. “Oh! Is this why you stopped?”

“Yes. I can’t find a way across.”

Littlefoot peered at the water, then hopped along the bank. She stopped beside a clump of reeds and pointed with one paw. Half hidden beneath them were three broad, flat stones.

“What about there?”

Flopsy came over. The stones were close enough to step across, but she hadn’t seen them from the path.

“I found them when I was looking for pebbles last time,” Littlefoot said. “Remember?”

Flopsy did remember. She had been so impatient to keep moving that she hadn’t even looked at Littlefoot’s collection.

George flew over the stream and settled on a willow branch. “They look promising from here!”

Littlefoot stepped carefully onto the first stone. Flopsy followed, staying close in case her sister needed help. But Littlefoot knew exactly where to put her paws. Soon they were both on the far bank.

Beneath the willow, the ground was cool and dappled with sunlight. Flopsy had wanted to see this place for weeks. Littlefoot looked around in wonder, then spotted a patch of tiny blue flowers near the roots.

“Flopsy, come and see!”

Flopsy started to say in a minute. Instead, she went over and sat beside her sister.

The flowers were lovely. So was the view through the willow branches, and the soft sound of the stream behind them. Flopsy might have missed all of it if she had rushed straight home.

“I’m sorry I said you’d get in the way,” she told Littlefoot. “You found the way across.”

Littlefoot leaned against her. “I know you like going fast. I’ll try not to stop quite so much.”

Flopsy smiled. “You can stop sometimes. Just show me what you’ve found.”

On their way home, Flopsy let Littlefoot choose the path. They stopped to watch George visit the clover, found a smooth white pebble worth keeping, and still made it back to the garden before the afternoon was over.

The next morning, Flopsy was waiting by the gate when Littlefoot came outside.

“Where are you going?” Littlefoot asked.

“To the meadow,” said Flopsy. “Would you like to come with me?”