Release, Written Small

YY heard the click in the fence post and ran for Mira before the second sound could happen without a witness.

"Post. Opening. Hurry," he said.

Mira did not hurry like a squirrel, because almost nobody did. YY bounced in place anyway until she reached the old fence. The knot had split by then, and a dusty moth was working its way into the sun.

For once, Mira did not write immediately. She watched. YY watched too, guarding the post with his body and his most serious face.

The moth unfolded slowly. The word release arrived in YY's head and behaved itself there. He did not make it bigger than the moth.

Mira marked the ledger with a tiny opening sign. YY approved. A large sign would have been rude.

When the moth lifted into the weeds, YY let out a breath he had not meant to hold. He missed some forage time and found only enough food to quiet the worst of his stomach.

But the ledger had learned how to write a thing leaving without making it belong to anyone.