Deep in the heart of the Enchanted Forest, where the trees whispered secrets and the brook giggled over smooth stones, lived a boy named Alexander. His hair curled like the vines that draped the ancient oaks, and his laughter sounded like the tinkling of wind chimes. But lately, something had been tickling his insides like a feather—something prickly and not very nice.

It all started when his little brother, Milo, found the *Glowing Acorn*.

BAM! Milo had tripped over a root (as usual—his feet were as coordinated as a wobbly jellyfish). But instead of crying, he gasped. "Look, Alex! It’s *magic*!" The acorn pulsed with a warm, buttery light, like a tiny sun had taken a nap inside it. It smelled like cinnamon toast and fresh rain, and when Milo held it, the air hummed with a soft *zzzzip* sound, like a firefly’s wings.

Alexander’s fingers twitched. His toes curled inside his boots. *Why didn’t I find it first?* The prickly feeling grew, wrapping around his chest like a too-tight sweater. He stomped his foot. "It’s just a dumb acorn. I bet it’s *not* magic."

Milo blinked, his eyelashes fluttering like moth wings. "But… it *glows*, Alex. And it feels all… tingly!" He held it out. The acorn’s light danced on Milo’s palm, warm as a kitten’s belly. Alexander’s hand hovered near it—just for a second—but then he shoved his fists into his pockets. "Whatever. I’m going to find something *better*."

Off he marched, his boots crunching on leaves that smelled like damp earth and crushed mint. The forest seemed to sigh around him. *Snap!* A twig broke under his foot. *Whoosh!* A squirrel chattered angrily from a branch, its tail flicking like a tiny whip. Alexander ignored them. He was on a *mission*.

He dug under ferns (squishy, like wet sponges), poked at mushrooms (slimy, like jellyfish left in the sun), and even climbed a rock (rough, like a giant’s tongue). Nothing glowed. Nothing *zzzzipped*. Just a lot of dirt under his nails and a leaf stuck in his hair like a silly hat.

Then—*SPLASH!*—he stepped right into the brook. Cold water seeped into his socks, and the pebbles tickled his toes like a hundred tiny fingers. He yelped and flailed, sending up a spray that glittered in the sunlight. *Giggle giggle.* The brook laughed at him.

That’s when he heard it. A tiny *sniffle*.

Behind a bush, Milo sat curled up, his knees hugged to his chest. The Glowing Acorn lay beside him, its light dimmer now, like a candle running out of wax. Milo’s cheeks were streaked with tears, and his nose dripped like a leaky faucet. "I—I lost the magic," he whispered. "The acorn stopped glowing when I got scared."

Alexander’s heart did a funny flip. He plopped down next to Milo, his wet socks squelching. "Scared of what?"

Milo wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Of you being mad. You stomped away, and the forest got all… quiet. Like it was holding its breath." He sniffled again. "I don’t like it when you’re mad."

The prickly feeling in Alexander’s chest melted like ice cream in the sun. He picked up the acorn. It was cool and smooth, like a river stone, but it didn’t glow. Not even a little. He took Milo’s hand—small and sticky—and pressed the acorn into his palm. "Maybe it just needs… a friend," he said.

Milo’s eyes widened. He squeezed the acorn tight. *Zzzzip!* The light flickered back to life, brighter than before. It smelled like warm cookies and hugs, and the air shimmered with tiny golden sparks. The brook giggled again, and the trees rustled their leaves like they were clapping.

Alexander grinned. "See? Magic works better when you share it."

Milo threw his arms around Alexander’s neck, nearly knocking him over. "You’re the best brother ever!" he declared, his voice muffled against Alexander’s shoulder.

And as they sat there, the Glowing Acorn pulsing between them, the forest sighed happily. The wind carried the smell of honey and pine, the brook sang a bubbly tune, and the moss under their legs felt as soft as a cloud. Alexander realized something: the prickly feeling was gone. In its place was something warm and wiggly and *much* nicer. Something that made his heart feel as light as a dandelion seed.

And that, my friend, was the real magic.