A Pace That Suits Us

The next morning, Puschel and Flauschi returned to the old willow. The wish note was still inside the little wooden boat. They had kept it safe at home and had not changed it. Now the boat stood on a flat stone beside their closed basket. Branches rustled overhead.

Puschel“Today we will find the island! Perhaps even before my next tummy-rumbling break.”

Puschel had already taken a large step when Flauschi paused. She looked at the arrow on the wooden sign, pointing upstream. Yesterday it had been an exciting clue. Today it was becoming a path whose ending they did not know.

Flauschi“I want to come. But I do not want to promise that we will get there today.”

Puschel turned around. He had closed the basket especially neatly and prepared an especially brave voice. Neither preparation helped much with Flauschi’s quiet words. Luckily, he did not need to compete with them.

Puschel“Are you worried about the path?”

Flauschi“A little. And I want time to look carefully as we walk. Even when you have already spotted something exciting.”

Puschel stepped back beside her. Flauschi offered her open paw. He took it, and for a moment they stood quite still. The coral-red sail trembled in the morning breeze; their shared pace did not have to.

Puschel“Then I will show you my discoveries before I run after them.”

Flauschi“And I will tell you when I need a rest. You can do that too.”

It sounded smaller than a grand arrival on an island. It still felt like a good promise for a journey. Puschel gently squeezed her paw, then they let go. Flauschi lifted the boat with both paws. Puschel reached for the basket—and discovered that his neatly packed luggage was surprisingly heavy.