In a tall tree by the quiet pond, lived a little owl named Hoo-Hoo. Every evening, when the sky turned orange, Hoo-Hoo got ready for bed.

First, she fluffed up her soft feathers. Then she tucked her wings in close. “That’s step one,” she said happily.

Next, she hummed her favourite tune, a soft little song her mother taught her. “That’s step two,” she whispered.

But tonight, the wind blew a little stronger than usual. The leaves rustled loudly, and Hoo-Hoo’s eyes grew wide.

“I feel a bit wobbly tonight,” she said softly.

Her friend, an old wise crow named Bholu, sat nearby on a branch. “Why do you feel wobbly, little Hoo-Hoo?”

“Everything sounds different tonight,” she said. “I don’t know if I can sleep.”

Bholu smiled kindly. “Have you done your steps yet?”

Hoo-Hoo thought for a moment. “I fluffed my feathers. I hummed my song.”

“Then you’re nearly there,” said Bholu. “What’s your last step?”

Hoo-Hoo remembered. “I close my eyes and say goodnight to the moon.”

She looked up. The moon was right where it always was, round and glowing, just like every other night.

“Goodnight, moon,” Hoo-Hoo whispered.

Slowly, her wobbly feeling floated away. The wind still blew, but it didn’t matter anymore. Her steps were done, just like always.

Hoo-Hoo closed her eyes and tucked her head under her wing.

“Goodnight, Bholu,” she murmured.

“Goodnight, little Hoo-Hoo,” said Bholu softly.

And in the tall tree by the quiet pond, the little owl drifted off to sleep, safe and warm, just the way she always did.