Pip woke to the softest glow — the kind of light that feels like a whisper. The Sleepy Garden was stretching into morning, each floating leaf drifting a little higher as the dawn warmed their edges.

Snoozle was already awake, though still very sleepy, humming a tiny morning tune. “Dreamy Meadow mornings are special,” he murmured, blinking slowly.

A Glowleaf Firefly drifted past, its light softer now, like a fading star. A round Pollen Puff bobbed lazily, still half‑asleep. And a shy Moonpetal Sprite peeked from behind a petal, its leaf‑ears drooping in a cosy morning way.

Pip sat up, rubbing her eyes. The creatures gathered around her, forming a tiny circle of gentle dawn light.

The meadow shimmered — not bright, not loud, just a soft, warm glow that felt like a hug. Pip breathed in the quiet morning air. Snoozle nudged her shoulder with his tiny paw.

“Some magic,” he whispered, “is meant for mornings.”

And the Sleepy Garden glowed with a new kind of wonder.