Flicker the fox was having a rather exciting day, though not in a fun way. A pack of noisy hounds was yipping and yapping right on his fluffy tail! He zipped and zoomed, looking for a place to hide.

"Aha!" he thought, spotting a thick, green bramble bush. "Perfect! They'll never find me in there."

With a mighty leap, Flicker dove headfirst into the bush. Ouch! Eeek! Yowch! The bramble bush wasn't soft and cuddly at all. It was full of sharp, pointy thorns. They pricked his nose, they snagged his fur, and one even poked his ear.

Flicker, safe from the hounds but very sore, whimpered. "Oh, dear Bramble Bush," he cried, "I came to you for help, and you've scratched me all over! That's not very kind!"

The Bramble Bush rustled its leaves. It didn't exactly speak, but if it could, it might have said something like this: "My dear Fox, I am a bramble bush. I have thorns. That's just how I am. You were running from danger, and I offered a hiding place, but you can't expect me to change my nature just for you."

Flicker sniffed. He was still a bit ouchy, but the hounds were gone. He carefully climbed out of the bush, shaking his fur. Maybe, just maybe, jumping into something known for being prickly wasn't the *best* idea, even when you're in a hurry.

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