High in the branches of a grand old oak tree lived a busy little red squirrel named Sammy. Sammy had a long, fluffy tail, quick little paws, and bright, curious eyes.

All day long, Sammy had scampered across the branches, gathering shiny acorns and playing tag with the autumn wind.

But now, the twilight sky was turning purple, and Sammy was feeling very, very tired.

Yawn! Sammy let out a big, wide squirrel yawn that stretched all the way to his bushy tail.

"Time to head home," Sammy squeaked softly.

He scampered down a thick branch toward his cozy hollow inside the old oak tree.

Inside his hollow, Sammy had a soft bed made of moss and feather-light leaves. Sitting right in the middle of his bed was his favorite object—a perfectly smooth, shiny golden acorn.

Sammy picked up the golden acorn with his tiny paws. It felt smooth, polished, and warm.

He sat down on his bed, hugged the golden acorn close to his chest, and let his fluffy tail curl all the way around his back.

Curl, snuggle, rest.

Outside his hollow window, the evening wind whispered through the oak leaves—rustle, rustle, hush.

Sammy felt his little paws grow heavy and soft. His breathing became slow and steady.

"Goodnight, shiny acorn," Sammy whispered in a sleepy murmur.

He closed his eyes, rested his cheek against his fluffy tail, and drifted off into sweet, peaceful dreams.

Goodnight, oak tree. Goodnight, acorn. Goodnight, Sammy.