Mama Solves Mysteries. Wren Solves Mama.

Mama was a detective. The best detective in the whole forest. Maybe the whole valley. Possibly the whole world but Wren was only four and hadn't seen the whole world yet so she couldn't be sure.

Detectives worked at night. This was a fact. Mysteries happened in the dark when everyone was asleep and not paying attention. Mama had explained this very carefully on many occasions. Wren understood completely. Wren did not like it one bit.

Tonight Mama had left at sundown. Her detective bag over one wing. Her detective hat slightly crooked the way it always was and Wren had tried to straighten it and Mama had laughed and said leave it, it's lucky and then she was gone.

Wren ate her supper. She tidied her nest. She looked at the window.

Outside the forest was dark and full of sounds. Rustling sounds. Creaking sounds. The sound of a mystery happening somewhere without her.

Wren got into bed. She looked at the ceiling. The ceiling was unhelpful.

She got out of bed. She went to the window. She sat on the window ledge the way Mama sometimes sat when she was thinking about a case — both feet tucked under her eyes soft looking at nothing and everything at the same time.

Wren looked at the forest. The forest looked back.

She would wait. Just for a little while. Just until the moon moved from that branch to the next one. Then she would go to sleep.

The moon moved. Wren stayed.

The stars shifted. Wren stayed.

The forest went from dark to darker to the particular blue-grey that meant somewhere far away the sun was thinking about coming back.

Wren's eyes went heavy. Her head tipped forward. Then back. Then forward again.

She did not go to bed.

When Mama came home at dawn her detective hat was still crooked and her bag was heavier which meant she had solved something in the dark while the forest slept.

She found Wren at the window. Both feet tucked under her. Eyes closed. Head resting against the wooden frame. Fast asleep in the blue-grey light still watching for her even in her sleep.

Mama stood very still.

She put her bag down. She reached inside it. She took out something small and placed it very carefully on the window ledge next to Wren's feet. A small smooth stone. White as the moon. From wherever she had been tonight.

She did this the way someone does something they have done many times before.

Mama picked Wren up. Carried her to bed. Tucked her in. Sat on the edge just for a moment just to look at her.

In the morning Wren woke up in her bed. She padded to the window.

On the ledge: One white stone. One small brown feather. One piece of bark shaped like a heart that wasn't quite a heart but was trying. One dried flower from a part of the forest Wren had never been. One blue button. One acorn cap. One tiny thing that might have been a tooth from something small and probably not dangerous.

Seven things. One for every night Mama had come home while Wren was sleeping.

Wren looked at the collection. She picked up the white stone. It was very smooth. It was cold from the night and then warm in her palm.

She understood something without knowing she understood it.

Mama was still asleep. Wren went to the kitchen. She found an acorn. A good round one. She put it on Mama's pillow. One thing. From her. For when Mama woke up and Wren was gone doing the daytime things detectives' daughters do.

Outside the forest went gold. A new mystery started somewhere in the trees.

It could wait.