Little Pip the morepork huddled deep in his tree. The dark made his feathers tremble.

‘I wish the sun would never leave,’ he whispered to the silent sky.

Then a tiny, sparkly voice called, ‘Turn around, Pip!’ From the mossy bank below, glow-worms shimmered.

‘The dark is not empty,’ sang the glow-worms. ‘It is full of stars, down here too!’

Pip blinked. The shadows weren’t scary—they were velvet. And every velvet shadow held a tiny light.

Now when night falls, Pip flies through the dark, calling, ‘Whoo-are-you?’ Because he knows the night is full of friends.