Tavi Triceratops had found the biggest fallen leaf in the valley. It was wider than his back and softer than the ferns beside his bed.
‘A blanket!’ he said.
He pulled it over his shoulders. His tail stuck out. He pulled it over his tail. His nose stuck out.
‘Almost a blanket,’ he said.
His friend Brin arrived with a smaller leaf.
‘Mine is too small too.’
They laid the leaves side by side. There was a gap between them. A cool breeze slipped through.
Tavi thought about making a pile. Brin thought about finding a much larger leaf. Neither wanted to leave the cozy clearing.
Then Brin noticed that the leaves were long in different directions.
‘Try turning yours.’
Tavi turned his leaf. Brin slid hers across the edge. Now they overlapped like two green roof tiles.
Together, the leaves covered both friends from their shoulders to their tails, with no chilly gap between them.
Tavi tucked his nose under one corner. Brin tucked her toes under another.
Above them, the fern fronds moved in the breeze. Beneath their two-leaf blanket, everything stayed warm.
‘Tomorrow we could find a blanket for everyone,’ said Brin.
Tavi imagined a whole meadow of dinosaurs with just their noses showing.
‘Tomorrow,’ he agreed.
Tonight, two leaves and two friends made a bed that was exactly big enough.
