It was a late winter morning, one of those mornings when the sun winked through the clouds and the air smelled a little of cold and a little of spring. Lily, Ziggy, Skye and Dash were in the garden, all wearing sweaters, having fun chasing the little white seeds the wind plucked from the dry branches.

"Look how high mine flies!" said Dash, running as fast as he could.
"Mine is making a circle!" laughed Ziggy, jumping with arms wide open.
Skye stood still, with a seed resting on her nose, not moving so it wouldn't fall.
Lily, on the other hand, was busy chasing a mischievous little seed that kept slipping away from her. Her blue eyes were squinted with concentration and her mouth was tight, like when she really wanted to do something.

"Wait, little seed, I'm going to catch you!" said Lily. "Don't run away!"

But the seed had other ideas. Up it went, down it went, around it spun, and just as Lily was about to close her hands around it... a gentle, familiar sound came from far away.

CHUFFFF! CHUFFFF!

It was Toby the Magic Train, popping up among the grass with his white smoke and his cheerful puffs. The children looked at each other and all smiled together: every time Toby arrived, a new adventure was waiting for them.

Toby stopped, blew his whistle, and then recited:

"Good morning, dear children, climb up, hold on tight,
we'll fly through the meadow, oh what a sight!
A little lost snout has wandered away,
a kind heart will help to brighten its day."

The children clapped their hands.
"Let's go!" shouted Ziggy.
"I'll jump in first!" said Dash, leaping onto the little wagon.
Skye climbed up calmly, without hurry. Lily pulled herself up with her strong legs and sat down next to Skye.
"Ready?" asked Toby.
"Ready!" the four answered together.

And Toby set off, through the trees and the clouds, through the blue sky and the fresh air. CHUFFFF, CHUFFFF.

After a joyful trip, the little train slowed down, and before the children's eyes a meadow opened up that made their heads spin. Yellow flowers, pink flowers, blue flowers like the sea when it laughs. White butterflies and orange butterflies dancing in the air. And a sweet smell, as if someone had mixed honey and powdered sugar.

"Wooow!" said Ziggy, with his mouth wide open.
"It looks like a painting!" Skye whispered.
"I want to touch them all!" laughed Dash, already ready to run.
Lily got off last, and took a long breath. She liked the smell. She liked the colors. And most of all, she liked how the grass moved, as if it were dancing.

It was moving because of the playful wind. A mischievous little breeze, ruffling their hair, sending leaves flying, sneaking under their sleeves to tickle them. The children ran, jumped, and Dash fell on the ground laughing because the wind had blown on his neck.

"Hey, wind, stop it!" he said between giggles.

But then, all of a sudden, the playful wind did something strange. It began to blow harder. And it pushed a big white cloud through the flowers, soft like a blanket. The cloud stopped above the path that crossed the meadow, and from there it began to fall... snow.

Not much, but enough. A fine snow, the kind that lands gently on the petals and makes them look like party clothes. The children stopped laughing and watched.

"How beautiful!" said Skye.
"But..." said Ziggy, pointing, "the wooden signs that show the way... they're all covered."

It was true. Along the meadow there were wooden signs with arrows and pictures: one for the fountain, one for the forest, one for the river. Now they were all white, covered with snow. You couldn't tell anymore where they led.

The children looked at each other. For a moment nobody spoke. The wind had stopped. The meadow was silent. And in that silence Lily felt a little squeeze inside: and now, what do we do?

It was Dash who saw it first. He bent down and pointed to the snowy path.
"Look! Footprints!"

They were tiny footprints, one after another, going into the meadow and disappearing among the snowy flowers. They looked like they had been made by very little feet. And up there, among the flowers, was something dark red: a little woolen scarf, left behind in the snow.

"Someone is lost," said Lily, and her voice was serious. "We have to find them."
"But how?" asked Ziggy. "Without the signs we don't even know where we are."
"The footprints will tell us," answered Lily. "Let's follow them."

They lined up. Lily in front, because she had that strong nature that never gives up. Skye behind her, quiet, paying attention. Then Ziggy, who took little hops, and Dash, who every now and then ran ahead to take a peek.

The footprints led them off the path, through the taller flowers, to a small clearing. And there, sitting on a stone, was a fox. A fox with reddish fur and gentle eyes, with her soft tail resting beside her. She had a little scarf around her neck, but a different color from the one they had found.

The fox lifted her head, and when she saw the children she lowered her snout calmly, the way grandparents do when they see someone they love.

"Good morning, little travelers," said the fox. "May I ask you to scout with me?"

The children stopped. The word was new.
"Sco... what?" asked Dash, scratching his head.
The fox smiled.
"Scout. It means walking with your eyes wide open and searching carefully, in every little corner."
"Oh!" said Ziggy. "Like when I look for my little cars under the couch!"
"Exactly," laughed the fox. "My name is Filomena. And I'm looking for my friend Pungo."

Lily looked at the red scarf she was still holding in her hand.
"Is this his?"
Filomena looked at it, and nodded yes with her head.
"Yes, it's Pungo's. Pungo is a tiny little hedgehog. He went out this morning to look for chestnuts and hasn't come back yet. I'm very worried."

"Why did he get lost?" asked Skye in her gentle little voice.
Filomena sighed, and her voice became as sweet as a bedtime story.
"You see, children, for a few days Pungo had a strange idea in his head. He said he was too slow. He said he wanted to be fast like a fox, because that's what's strong. So today he tried to run like us. He tried to jump. But the hedgehog doesn't run like the fox. The hedgehog walks calmly and rolls up when he's scared. And so, going where he shouldn't, he got lost. All of us here are good at being what we are. When you want to be like someone else, you end up in places where you don't know the way."

Lily stood still for a moment. Those words had entered her like a tiny sun.

"We'll find him," said Lily, determined. "The footprints come up to here, but then there are other smaller tracks."
Filomena looked at her in wonder.
"And you, little one, how can you be so sure?"
Lily lifted her chin.
"I'm just made this way. When I want to do something, I do it."
"There," said Filomena, with a wise smile, "you too are good at being yourself."

They all set off together. Pungo's footprints were really tiny and could barely be seen in the snow. They went forward, then back, then turned: it seemed the little hedgehog had really gotten confused.

At one point the footprints disappeared. In front of the children was a stretch of flowers under the snow, and no sign.
"Now what?" asked Dash, with a little fear in his voice.
"Now we listen," said Skye.

And they listened. The wind was still. The meadow was silent. And yet, far away, a tiny sob could be heard.

"It's him!" Ziggy whispered.
They came closer slowly, like good little scouts. And behind a bush, curled up in a tiny ball, was Pungo. A very small hedgehog, with his little snout shiny with tears.

"I don't know where I am anymore," he sobbed. "I wanted to be fast. And now I don't know how to get home."

Lily came closer and knelt down.
"Don't cry," she said softly. "We're here to take you back to Filomena."
"But I wanted to be like you," said Pungo. "You are brave, he is fast," and he pointed at Dash, "she is sweet, he is cheerful... I am nothing."

Skye placed a hand on his back of tiny prickles, careful not to prick herself.
"You are a hedgehog. It's wonderful to be a hedgehog."
"If you weren't here, who would have found the chestnuts under the leaves?" said Ziggy.
"If you weren't here, who would have rolled up to make us laugh when we play?" added Dash.
"And if you weren't here," said Filomena softly, arriving behind them, "I wouldn't have my friend Pungo. And I love you just the way you are."

Pungo unrolled slowly, and looked at everyone with his little black eyes. A smile slipped out.
"So... I can just be a hedgehog?"
"You must just be a hedgehog," said Lily, firmly. "Because what you are is already the most beautiful thing."

In that moment something magical happened. The sky cleared, the clouds moved away, and a gentle rain began to fall. Tiny drops going TIC TIC TIC on the flowers, on the leaves, and on the snowy signs too. The snow slowly melted, and the wooden arrows became visible again, one by one. Now you could see again where to go.

The signs pointed to a little burrow, nearby. The home of Pungo and Filomena.

The children walked Pungo all the way to the door. Filomena thanked them with a bow, the way grandparents do.

When they came back, Toby the Magic Train was waiting for them, with smoke making little donuts in the air.

"Climb up, dear children, it's time to go,
with hearts full of stories that softly glow!
You found the small friend who had lost his way,
and being yourself shines bright every day.

Remember, my little ones, listen and hear,
don't be a fox if you're a hedgehog dear!
Being yourself is the brightest light,
it warms your heart and shines in the night."

They climbed in. Skye rested her head on Lily's shoulder, who smiled at her. Dash fell asleep almost right away, with a tiny smile. Ziggy looked out the window humming.

And Lily, while the wind ruffled her hair again, touched her chest with her hand. She felt that inside, she was just Lily. She didn't have to be anyone else. And that was already enough.

CHUFFFF, CHUFFFF.

The little train took them home.