Boo-boo -

"Now," said a voice from above. It was Mama Squirrel, who had come scurrying down when she heard the commotion. She didn't scold Pip for jumping too high. Instead, she sat him on a flat stone and began to hum a low, vibrating tune. Scientists might call it "comfort," but in the Whispering Woods, they called it the Healing Hum. It distracted Pip’s brain from the throb in his knee and focused it on the warmth of his mother’s fur. Step 3: The Leaf of Protection

Pip’s bottom lip trembled. "It stings, Barnaby. It stings a lot. I think my leaping days are over. I shall have to become a ground squirrel and live in a hole with the beetles." boo-boo

For a moment, the woods were silent. Then, Pip let out a tiny, shaky squeak. He looked down at his knee. The fur was ruffled, and there, right on the joint, was a bright red scrape. It wasn't a giant wound, but to a small squirrel, it felt like the end of the world. It was his first real boo-boo. "Now," said a voice from above

Pip looked down at his green bandage. It looked quite professional. He tried a small hop. It still twinged, but the "end of the world" feeling had vanished. He realized that his body was already busy fixing the scrape, knitting things back together under the safety of the leaf. Instead, she sat him on a flat stone

"Oh dear, oh my," puffed Barnaby, a slow-moving tortoise who had witnessed the crash. "That looks like a genuine ouchie."

Pip didn’t fall all the way to the forest floor—squirrels are far too springy for that—but he did tumble awkwardly, his back leg catching on a rough patch of bark before he tumbled into a soft pile of moss.

One Tuesday, the sun was hitting the golden oak leaves just right, and Pip felt faster than usual. "Watch this!" he chattered to a sleepy owl. Pip took a massive leap toward a branch that was just a little too thin and a little too slippery. Snap.