
World Seed Adventures Tiko the Squirrel and Pippa’s Song
Tiko the squirrel loved two things best: shiny things and stories. He had a soft gray tail that curled like a question mark when he was curious, which was almost all the time. His best friend Pippa was a green parrot with a splash of blue on her wings and a bright red beak. She loved songs, and she loved to fly in circles above Tiko’s head and tell him about faraway places she had seen in her dreams.
One soft morning in Maplewood Forest, while the sun was still yawning and the dew was still tickling the grass, Tiko found the shiniest thing he had ever seen. It looked like an acorn, but it had tiny swirls on its shell, as if a careful beetle had painted it with moonlight.
“What’s that?” Pippa asked, fluttering down to perch on Tiko’s shoulder.
“I don’t know,” Tiko whispered. “But my whiskers are wiggling. That means adventure.”
The not quite acorn hummed in his paws. Pippa tilted her head. “It’s singing. Maybe it’s a seed for a story.”
Together, they listened. The humming sounded like a happy little tune, and when Tiko tapped the acorn, it shivered and glowed. Pippa laughed. “Let’s try a travel song!”
“Tap, tap,” said Tiko, tapping it gently.
“Hum hum hum,” sang Pippa.
“World Seed, World Seed, where should we go?” they sang together. “Show us a door, and we will say hello!”
Leaves on the oak tree above them twirled into a circle. The grass bent into a soft path. The shiny acorn no, the World Seed spun once, and a door of light opened in the air. Tiko’s tail made a very big question mark now.
“Feathers flutter for adventure!” Pippa chirped.
“Curiosity wiggles my whiskers!” Tiko squeaked.

They stepped through the door.
On the other side was a world of sand that sparkled like sugar under a big round moon. The air smelled like salt. Gentle waves whispered shh, shh, as they rolled onto the shore. Tiny shapes wiggled through the sand.
“Look!” Pippa pointed with her wing. “Baby sea turtles!”
A little turtle popped its head up and blinked its wise, tiny eyes. “I’m Shelly,” she said. “We just hatched. We have to find the ocean, but there are lights from the town that are confusing us.”
Tiko looked toward the town. Lanterns lined a boardwalk and made bright puddles of light. “My whiskers say the sea should be the brightest thing,” he said softly. “Moonlight over water is bright and straight. But those lanterns look brighter.”
“Sea turtle babies use light to find their way,” Pippa explained gently. “They look for the glowing stripe where the water meets the sky. Tonight the lanterns look like the moon.”
Shelly’s flippers flapped, ready to go. “I want to swim,” she said. “But I don’t want to go the wrong way.”
“Then let’s make a moon path,” Tiko said.
Together, they got to work. Tiko found smooth white shells and lined them up from the turtle nest to the ocean. Pippa borrowed silvery fish scales from friendly fish who had dropped them on the shore and placed them on the shells so they sparkled. The World Seed hummed and grew a tiny patch of seaweed that they used to make gentle archways like gates, pointing the way to the water.
“Follow the shiny shells,” Pippa sang. “Follow the magic made by friends!”
The baby turtles, dozens of tiny flippers patter patter pattering on the sand, followed the sparkling line. A curious crab waved a claw and stepped aside. A sleepy gull tucked its head under its wing, remembering it wasn’t dinnertime. Shelly reached the edge of the water, paused, and looked back at Tiko and Pippa.

“Thank you,” Shelly said. “We breathe air, you know,” she added proudly. “Even though we live in the sea.”
“I’ll remember,” Tiko said. “Come up for air, little friend.”
Shelly slid into the wave and swam with her siblings. The World Seed glowed softly in Tiko’s paws, and a new swirl appeared on its shell, like a little wave.
Pippa flapped her wings. “One world helped,” she chirped. “Where to next?”
They sang their song again. “Tap, tap, hum hum hum. World Seed, World Seed, where should we go? Show us a door, and we will say hello!”
The sea smell faded, and warm, dry air washed over them. Sand stretched for miles like a golden ocean. The sun was sleeping the stars were awake. The desert was quiet except for a tiny rustle and a soft whisper of paws on sand.
Out from behind a dune popped a little creature with a sandy coat and very big ears that stuck up like two little flags. “Hello,” he said shyly. “I’m Dune. I’m a fennec fox. I was playing while it’s cool, and now I can’t find my den.”
Tiko admired Dune’s ears. “They’re excellent,” he said. “Do they help you hear?”
“They do,” Dune said. “They also help me stay cool. There are lots of tiny rivers of blood in my ears, and the wind cools them. The desert gets very hot when the sun is up, so we play and hunt at night.”
“Let’s listen for your family,” Pippa suggested, cupping a wing near her head like a giant ear. They all stood still and listened. The desert whispered secrets tiny feet of beetles, the soft chirp of a night bird, the sigh of wind.
Far away, there was a faint yip yip. Dune’s ears twitched. “Mama!”

They started walking. The dunes were like waves, up and down, up and down.
“Let’s count the dunes,” Tiko said. “Counting helps us keep going.”
“One,” Pippa sang.
“Two,” Tiko puffed as they climbed.
“Three,” all three said together at the top of a smooth sandy hill.
They stopped by a prickly plant with fat green pads dotted with spines. The World Seed hummed, and a drop of water shimmered on one of the spines.
“Cactus,” Pippa said. “It stores water inside. Some animals, like Dune, get water from the food they eat, and sometimes they lick dew drops when the air is cool.”
Dune carefully licked the dew drop. “Thank you,” he said, tail swishing.
They listened again. The yip yip was louder. Dune led them to a low burrow near the base of a little sandy hill. A larger fox with the same big ears popped out and nuzzled Dune, making happy chirps.
“You found your way in the night,” the mother fox said gratefully. “The desert can be tricky even when you live here.”
“Look at the stars,” Tiko said, pointing up. “There are more than acorns here.”

Pippa looked. “Stars help travelers too,” she said. “But so do friends.”
The World Seed’s shell added a new swirl a tiny ear shape. Tiko and Pippa took a quiet breath and sang their song again.
“Tap, tap, hum hum hum. World Seed, World Seed, where should we go? Show us a door, and we will say hello!”
Whoosh! Cold air kissed their noses. The world turned white and blue. Snowflakes danced. Ice glittered. Tiko’s tail puffed up like a fluffy scarf, and Pippa tucked her feet into her chest to keep them warm.
On a grassy cliff high above the sea, a small bird with black and white feathers and a bright orange and blue beak paced near a hole in the ground, calling, “Cheep cheep?” Another little voice answered from a different hole, a worried “Cheep?”
“I’m Puffle,” said the bird. “I’m a puffin. My chick took a wrong turn in the burrows and can’t find our home.”
Tiko peered into the burrow. It was a maze of little tunnels, like the paths he made among tree roots. “There are many rooms down there,” he said. “It’s like an underground village.”
Pippa had an idea. “We can leave a bright trail. Follow my colors.”
The World Seed hummed warm again, even in the cold, and three tiny berry bushes sprouted in a neat line near the burrow red, blue, and red again. Pippa plucked a few berries and gently dotted a line along the right tunnel entry. The scent of the berries drifted in.
“Cheep cheep?” called the little lost puffin.
“Follow the berry smell,” Pipple called back cheerfully. “And our voices. Left at the red, right at the blue, then straight until you can see the light.”

“Puffins carry lots of fish in their beaks,” Tiko told Pippa while they waited. “I read it on a sign once.”
“They do,” Pippa nodded. “Their beaks are like colorful baskets. In spring, their beaks are extra bright.”
A tiny dark head popped up along the berry path, and the fluffy chick scrambled out, tripping on its feet and falling into Puffle’s wings. They chirped and sang and made happy noises together. The world looked even brighter.
“You’re good friends,” Puffle told Tiko and Pippa. “When my little one grows, we will swim, and dive, and bring back enough fish for many mouths. For now, thank you.”
The World Seed gleamed and added a tiny beak swirl to its shell.
“Are you ready?” Pippa asked the seed, and maybe the seed was ready too, because it hummed at once.
“Tap, tap, hum hum hum. World Seed, World Seed, where should we go? Show us a door, and we will say hello!”
They stepped into sunshine that smelled like flowers. A meadow spread out in waves of color yellow, purple, red, and blue blossoms nodding in the breeze. Bees danced over the blossoms with gentle buzz buzz buzz, their legs dusted with golden pollen.
“Buzz hello,” said a bee, spiraling near Tiko’s ear. “I am Beeatrice. We had a windy storm yesterday. Many of our flowers lost their petals. We need to find new ones, or we can’t make honey or help the plants make seeds.”
Pippa dipped her head politely. “Bees help flowers, and flowers help bees,” she said. “When bees sip sweet nectar from a flower, sticky pollen dusts their legs. When they visit another flower, the pollen helps the plant make seeds and fruit. That’s called pollination.”
“Buzz yes,” Beeatrice agreed. “We tell each other where the good flowers are by dancing. Watch.”

Beeatrice wiggled and zigzagged and did a little figure eight. Pippa laughed and tried to copy. Her waggle was very wobbly. Tiko clapped his paws.
“Your dance tells the direction and how far,” Pippa said. “Like a treasure map.”
“Then let’s find treasure,” Tiko said.
They walked to the edge of the meadow where the wind had not reached. There, the World Seed hummed and opened a tiny pocket in itself. Inside were little paper thin wings that floated out and they were seeds! The wind carried them over the meadow. The seeds spun like tiny helicopters and landed softly in the ground where petals were missing. Tiko and Pippa patted dirt over them, while Beeatrice and her friends buzzed happily, visiting the fresh, bright blossoms that were already opening where the seeds landed.
“That was fast,” Tiko said, amazed. “New flowers!”
“Seeds can be sleepy or speedy,” Pippa said. “Some wake up after rain. Some travel on fur or wind. They bring surprises to many places.”
Beeatrice did a dancing thank you and gave Pippa a tiny drop of golden honey on the tip of her beak. “For your song,” she buzzed. “And for your waggle.”
The World Seed added a tiny flower swirl to its shell.
“Tap, tap, hum hum hum. World Seed, World Seed, where should we go? Show us a door, and we will say hello!”
Now they were in a rainforest that smelled like green. Leaves layered over leaves, big ones like umbrellas and little ones like fingers. Colorful birds called to each other. Monkeys leaped. A bright frog peeked at them from a wet leaf and then hopped away, as bouncy as a raindrop.
On a branch nearby, a furry face looked at them slowly. The animal smiled in the slowest, sweetest way.

“Hello,” the animal said in a soft voice. “I am Lento. I am a sloth. I need to get to that tree over there, where the leaves are even tastier. But the branches don’t touch today.”
Tiko looked down. A small river rushed between the trees, chattering over stones. “My paws are not made for swimming fast,” he said.
Pippa stretched her wings. “I can fly, but Lento needs a bridge.”
The World Seed hummed and twitched. Vines near their feet stretched as if waking up from naps. “We can help,” Pippa said, and she and Tiko began to weave the vines like a soft rope between the trees. Lento reached out slowly, carefully, and held one vine, then another, his long curved claws holding on like gentle hooks.
“Take your time,” Tiko said, and he meant it. The forest was full of sounds and smells and sights worth waiting for.
“Being slow keeps me safe,” Lento said, moving his foot to the next vine. “Green algae grows on my fur sometimes. It helps me look like the leaves so jaguars don’t see me.”
Pippa watched him with calm eyes. “Everyone has a special way,” she said. “Turtles swim. Foxes listen. Puffins dive. Bees dance. You move slow. Tiko finds things.”
“And Pippa sings,” Tiko added.
When Lento reached the other tree, the leaves rustled like applause. He took a gentle bite. “Mmm,” he said. “Thank you, friends.”
The World Seed added a swirl like a leaf to its shell, and it felt heavy in Tiko’s paws, full of all the new places and faces they had met.
Tiko looked at Pippa, and Pippa looked at Tiko. Their eyes were bright. Their feet were a little tired. Their hearts felt wide and warm.

“Home?” Tiko asked.
“Home,” Pippa agreed.
“Tap, tap, hum hum hum. World Seed, World Seed, where should we go? Show us a door, and we will say hello!”
Leaves bent, and the golden doorway opened again. They stepped back into Maplewood Forest. The sun was thinking about setting, painting the sky with pink and orange crayons. The oak tree spread its arms as if it had been waiting for a hug.
Tiko and Pippa sat under the tree and looked at the World Seed. It was different now. Its shell was a storybook of swirls the wave from the sea, the ear from the desert, the beak from the cliff, the flower from the meadow, the leaf from the rainforest. It made a soft, contented hum that matched the hum of the evening insects.
“What shall we do with it?” Tiko asked. “Keep it? Hide it? Make it a necklace?”
Pippa tapped her beak against the shell and listened. “Seeds,” she said softly, “like to grow.”
Tiko dug a small hole at the foot of the oak tree, just big enough for the World Seed. Pippa helped by fanning the dirt with her wings. They placed the World Seed inside, as gently as you place a baby turtle on sand.
“Thank you,” Tiko whispered to the seed. “For the worlds. For the friends.”
They patted the dirt and sat together. The ground was warm and smelled friendly. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a little green sprout poked up, shy as a finger. It unfurled like a tiny fan. Then another sprout. And another. The sprouts wove together into a small plant with leaves that flashed different shades when the wind touched them sea blue, desert gold, snow white, flower bright, forest green.
A bee flew over and buzzed hello. A rabbit hopped close and wiggled its nose. The other animals of Maplewood came to see. Tiko and Pippa told them the story of the turtles and the fox and the puffin and the bees and the sloth. Their words made pictures in the air, and their laughter drifted into the leaves.

“Can we go?” asked a chipmunk, eyes wide.
“Every kind of going has its time,” Pippa said kindly. “And every kind of helping has its place. Sometimes it’s far. Sometimes it’s right here.”
They shared the tiny drop of honey on the tip of Pippa’s beak, each friend licking just a taste. It tasted like flowers and warm sun and busy wings.
As the sun slipped away and the first stars blinked awake, the little plant glowing at the oak’s roots rang softly. Not a bell you could hear with ears, but a bell you could hear with your heart. If you listened very carefully, you could hear whispers like waves and wind in sand and ice cracking and bees humming and leaves rustling and a sloth’s slow hello, all at once.
Tiko lay back and looked up through the branches.
“The world is big,” he said, “and full of doors.”
“And even bigger with friends,” Pippa added.
They watched as a moth fluttered by, as fireflies painted spots of light in the air, as the oak tree held the sky like a kind hand. The plant at its foot glowed softly, and if you peered very closely at its leaves, you would see tiny shapes dancing the curve of a turtle shell, the tip of a fox ear, the bright peek of a puffin beak, the shimmer of a bee’s wing, the slow turn of a sloth smile.
Tiko’s tail relaxed into a calm comma. Pippa tucked her head under her wing. Maplewood Forest hummed like a happy song.
And in the morning, when the dew tickled the grass again, there would be more acorns to find, more stories to tell, and more ways to help because that is what curious squirrels and singing parrots and brave little seeds love most of all.
They slept with smiles and woke with wonder, and that is the best kind of happy ending.