Maple the Moose's Marshmallow Mission E-Book

Kelly Johnson

• Herausgeber: Kelly Johnson
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 93

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Maple the Moose embarks on a heartwarming winter adventure to gather marshmallows from the elusive Northern Marshmallow Meadow to share at the forests Winter Festival. Along the way, she navigates snowy forests, overcomes sticky obstacles, and meets Puff, the glowing Guardian of the Meadow, who teaches her that kindness, teamwork, and patience are essential to earning the magical treats. Maple completes challenges helping snow-bunnies, freeing a trapped bird, and returning a lost mitten, learning valuable lessons about generosity and clever problem-solving. After outsmarting a mischievous raccoon on the journey home, she returns to the village, decorates for the festival, and shares her glowing marshmallows with friends. The story concludes with a joyful celebration, highlighting the rewards of courage, friendship, and the joy of giving.

Leseprobe

IMPRESSUM

Maple the Moose’s Marshmallow Mission

Author: Kelly Johnson

© 2025 Kelly Johnson.

All rights reserved.

Author: Kelly Johnson

Contact: 903 W Woodland Ave, Kokomo, IN 46902

Email: [email protected]

Disclaimer

This eBook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Maple’s Sweet Idea

Chapter 2: Packing for the Adventure

Chapter 3: The Forest Path

Chapter 4: A Sticky Situation

Chapter 5: Meeting the Marshmallow Guardian

Chapter 6: Puff’s Challenge

Chapter 7: The Great Marshmallow Harvest

Chapter 8: Trouble on the Trail

Chapter 9: Festival Preparations

Chapter 10: A Sweet Celebration

Maple the Moose’s Marshmallow Mission

By: Kelly Johnson

Chapter 1: Maple’s Sweet Idea

Maple the Moose stretched her long legs as the first rays of winter sunlight peeked through the frosty trees, scattering golden sparkles across the fresh snow. The forest was still quiet, wrapped in the peaceful hush that only early winter mornings could bring. Maple lifted her head, letting the cold air fill her lungs. It smelled of pine needles, woodsmoke drifting from distant burrows, and the faint sweetness of frozen berries buried beneath the snow. As the light warmed the treetops, she felt a familiar flutter of excitement—it was almost time for the Winter Festival, the happiest, most heart-glowing day in the forest.

But today, something extra special was tugging at her thoughts.

Marshmallows.

Not just any marshmallows, but the legendary ones—soft, fluffy, sugary clouds that melted the moment they touched your tongue. The kind that made even the coldest cocoa taste like a cupful of warm joy. Maple closed her eyes just imagining it. Her stomach gave a dramatic rumble, echoing through the trees like an impatient drumroll.

She smiled to herself as she pictured her friends: Squeaky the Squirrel bouncing excitedly as he roasted a marshmallow twice his size, Hazel the Hare arranging cups of cocoa with her signature perfection, and even old Bruno the Bear, whose grumpy winter growls always softened when marshmallows were involved. Maple imagined them all gathered around the sparkling snowdrifts, their warm breaths swirling together in little clouds as they laughed, told stories, and celebrated under strings of icy lanterns.

It would be perfect—if she could bring the marshmallows.

But there was a problem. A big one.

Marshmallows didn’t grow just anywhere. They didn’t pop up near the berry bushes or sprout beside the tall pines. They only grew in one place: the Northern Marshmallow Meadow, a magical stretch of land hidden deep beyond the winding pine forests, past the frozen glade, and across the icy ribbon streams where the snowflakes always fell in slow, shimmering spirals.

It wasn’t an easy trip. In fact, for most animals, it was nearly impossible. The path was long, the ground treacherous, and the wind in certain stretches was known to nip at your nose even through a scarf. Maple had heard stories about mischievous raccoons who stole snacks from travelers, tangled brambles that moved when no one was looking, and frost gusts strong enough to flip a squirrel right off its tail.

But Maple wasn’t just any forest creature.

She was determined, big-hearted, and stubborn in the best possible way. And the thought of seeing her friends’ faces light up with delight made her chest warm from antlers to hooves. She wanted to do something memorable—something that would make this Winter Festival the sweetest one yet.

No ordinary trip to the village market would do.

This would be a journey.

A quest.

An adventure that would start with one big, marshmallow-craving step into the unknown.

Maple exhaled a long puff of frosty air and squared her shoulders.

If the marshmallows wouldn’t come to the festival…

Then Maple the Moose would go to the marshmallows.

Maple sat down on a soft patch of snow and pulled out her notebook. With a careful hoof, she sketched the route she remembered from old forest maps: twisty paths through the firs, a frozen river to cross, and a hill that sparkled with frost. She jotted down supplies she might need—warm scarves, a sturdy rope, a thermos of cocoa for herself, and a small bag to carry the precious marshmallows.

Her antlers caught the sunlight, sparkling with frost, and she tapped them thoughtfully against her head. “I can do this,” she murmured. “It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it. My friends deserve the sweetest Winter Festival ever.”

With her plan forming in her mind and a flutter of determination in her chest, Maple took a deep breath of the cold morning air. The snow beneath her hooves crunched softly, like the forest itself was cheering her on. She imagined the Marshmallow Meadow waiting for her, its fluffy white treasures sparkling under the winter sun.

And with that thought, Maple knew there was only one thing to do: she had to start her marshmallow mission. Adventure awaited, and she was ready to answer the call.

Chapter 2: Packing for the Adventure

Maple trotted toward her cozy little den, her hooves sinking into the soft morning snow with a satisfying crunch, crunch, crunch. Her breath puffed out in tiny clouds, drifting lazily above her head as she walked. The sun was just beginning to rise, stretching long beams of light through the pine branches and setting the icicles aglow like strings of diamonds. It felt like the whole forest was waking up with her—watching, waiting, and whispering its quiet encouragement for her marshmallow mission.

Inside her den, everything smelled like cedar and warm moss. Maple flicked her ears happily; this was her favorite place in the whole forest, a little nook she’d decorated with pinecones, soft dried leaves, and sketches she’d made of her friends during past festivals. She took a deep breath, feeling both excitement and a fluttery nervousness. A long journey awaited her, and she knew that being prepared was just as important as being brave.

She carefully opened her tiny backpack—the one she used only for special occasions—and began to fill it piece by piece. First, she folded her warmest wool scarf, a rich burgundy red that Hazel had knitted for her last winter. Maple draped it around her neck for a moment, enjoying its soft warmth, before tucking it neatly inside. Next came her favorite thermos, filled with rich, steaming hot cocoa that smelled faintly of cinnamon and vanilla. The moment the lid clicked shut, she felt a boost of confidence. Nothing kept a moose moving like cocoa.

Then she placed her trusty notebook inside, the pages still crisp and waiting for new stories, sketches, and discoveries. She added a pencil too—sharpened to a perfect point—because she never knew when she might want to draw the shapes of drifting winter clouds, mysterious pawprints, or hopefully… marshmallows. Big ones. Fluffy ones. Maybe even the rare swirly peppermint kinds she’d only heard rumors about.

Finally, she rolled up a small blanket, soft and plaid, and squeezed it into the top of her bag. She imagined curling up with it if she needed to rest beneath a snowy pine or beside a frozen creek. Just picturing it made the journey feel a little less daunting.

As Maple zipped up her backpack with a satisfied tug, a sudden rustling sound overhead made her ears twitch. Squeaky the Squirrel came tumbling down from a nearby pine tree, landing on a low branch with a dramatic flourish. His fluffy tail puffed out behind him like an excited plume.

“Don’t forget your mittens!” he squeaked breathlessly, holding up a pair of knitted blue mittens that dangled comically from his tiny paws. “And watch out for slippery patches on the paths—especially near the frozen creek! Hazel says the ice is extra sneaky today!”

Maple chuckled, lowering her head so Squeaky could place the mittens right onto her antlers before she stowed them away. “Thank you, Squeaky,” she said warmly. “I’ll be careful.”

Squeaky leaned in closer, eyes wide, tail twitching with urgency. “And one more thing,” he whispered dramatically, glancing around as if the trees themselves might overhear. “If you smell marshmallows… always check for raccoons first.”

Maple blinked, bemused. “Raccoons?”

Squeaky nodded furiously. “They will steal anything that smells sweet. Even socks. Even my socks.” His tiny voice dropped to a whisper as he added, “And they have no remorse.”

Despite the seriousness in Squeaky’s tone, Maple couldn’t help but smile. With friends like these—helpful, worried, wonderfully silly—she felt readier than ever for the adventure ahead.

Hazel the Hare hopped in next, her long ears bouncing with every careful leap. Her soft fur shimmered with frost, and her eyes twinkled with mischief and wisdom. “And be careful of raccoons,” she warned, tapping her paw thoughtfully against her chin. “They’re clever little mischief-makers. If they spot your marshmallows, they might sneak a few—or try to take them all!” She shivered playfully, as if imagining a tiny striped bandit scheming in the snow.

Maple chuckled, shaking her head, a strand of her scarf brushing over her snowy muzzle. “Thanks, you two. I’ll be careful,” she said, her voice tinged with both amusement and determination. “I can’t have my marshmallows stolen before the Winter Festival!” Her eyes sparkled as she pictured the clearing alive with friends, glowing lanterns, and the scent of cocoa mingling with the crisp winter air. A thrill of anticipation coursed through her, making her hooves tingle with excitement.

Squeaky darted forward, his tail flicking energetically like a little furry flag. “Remember,” he squeaked, his voice bouncing in the quiet forest, “it’s not just about finding marshmallows. It’s about enjoying the journey! Keep your eyes open for surprises. Listen to the wind, watch the snow sparkle, and—most importantly—have fun!” He did a tiny spin in midair, wings flapping with flourish, before landing lightly atop a nearby branch.

Hazel nodded vigorously, her long ears flopping as she leaned closer. “And don’t forget the Northern Snowflowers,” she added, her voice softening like a whisper carried on the breeze. “They only bloom this time of year, hidden among the snowy ridges and icy streams. If you spot them, you’ll know you’re on the right path. They’re shy but magical—like tiny stars resting on the snow.”

Maple’s heart swelled with gratitude for her friends’ advice and encouragement. She felt the warmth of their faith in her, like a cozy blanket against the crisp chill of the forest. Adjusting her backpack, she took a deep, steady breath of the frosty winter air, letting the sharp scent of pine, snow, and distant berries fill her lungs. The snow under her hooves glittered like a field of diamonds, each flake catching the morning sunlight and reflecting tiny rainbows across the ground. Every branch and twig seemed to whisper secrets and promises of adventure, bending slightly as if nodding her onward.