Saturday
Nine Little Goodnights
Roostlings — Seven Little Goodnights

The Roost was warm and quiet. The day’s shoes stood by the door. The day’s cups were on the shelf. Fig had finished folding the spare blankets. He placed the last one over the back of his chair, ready for anyone who wanted it.

Four children were getting comfortable. Four dinosaur friends were settling nearby. Fig was there, too. Nobody was missing. Nobody needed to be found. Tonight, Fig was simply going to say a little goodnight to each of his friends.

First, he stopped beside Ivy. She had put her favourite picture on the shelf where she could see it in the morning. Her hands were tucked beneath the edge of her blanket. “Goodnight, Ivy,” Fig said. “Your busy hands can rest.” Ivy smiled and let her head sink into the pillow.

Beside her lay Pebble. His strong feet were folded underneath him. The cart he had helped with earlier was already in its shed. Fig asked whether his blanket was comfortable. Pebble gave a small, sleepy nod. “Goodnight, Pebble. Your pulling feet can rest.”

Hana had laid her yellow coat over the bench. Its sleeves were empty. It would be ready whenever she wanted it again. For now, she had a soft blanket instead. “Goodnight, Hana,” Fig murmured. “All your going places can wait.” Hana closed her eyes for a little while.

Kite rested on his low, cushioned perch. One wing lay neatly over the other. The high branches and the wide sky would still be there another day. Fig did not touch his feathers. He just sat nearby for a moment. “Goodnight, Kite. Your flying wings can rest.”

Dax was looking at the little wooden lamb on his shelf. He liked knowing exactly where it was. He could see its round back in the soft light. Then he turned towards his pillow. “Goodnight, Dax,” Fig said. “Your looking eyes can rest.”

Waffle had made a comfortable circle around his cushion. His nose was close to his tail. His feathers looked like many small leaves lying one over another. “Goodnight, Waffle,” Fig whispered. “Your finding nose can rest.” A tiny chirrup answered, then faded into quiet.

Obi lay beneath a blanket with a smooth green edge. He had folded the edge back so it felt just right under his chin. Fig sat beside him while he made one last little adjustment. “Goodnight, Obi. You have a place just right for you.” Obi’s fingers grew still.

Maple’s roomy bed was beside the open inner doors. His long neck rested in an easy curve. Nothing needed lifting from a high branch now. Fig looked into his gentle, half-closed eyes. “Goodnight, Maple. Your reaching neck can rest.” Maple gave a low, comfortable hum.

Fig returned to his chair. There was one goodnight left. Obi opened his eyes just a little. “Goodnight, Fig,” he whispered. The other children murmured it, too, each in their own small way. Fig smiled. The person who helped everyone settle could rest as well.

He laid his hands in his lap and listened. Blankets moved softly. A cushion gave a tiny sigh. Outside, a leaf brushed another leaf. Then everything was quiet again.

They did not need to count once more. Every cosy place had its friend. Every friend had their cosy place.

Four children. Four dinosaur friends. And Fig.

All here. All home. Goodnight.

Developed with AI under Luc Schurgers’s direction. Audio narration: OpenAI Marin (AI voice).