Sleepypie_cranberries-ooucel3q.mp4 File

One chilly Tuesday, the Sleepy Pie waddled out of its hollow log, carrying a tiny wicker basket. The moon was high and round, casting long, blue shadows across the snow. With each step, the spirit made a soft whump-whump sound, like a pillow being fluffed.

It reached the edge of the Cranberry Bog, where the water was still and dark as ink. There, floating like little glowing gems, were the berries. The Sleepy Pie reached out a tiny paw and plucked one. It was cool and felt like a bubble made of velvet. sleepypie_cranberries-OoucEL3Q.mp4

As the mist traveled over the rooftops of nearby houses and into the dens of hibernating bears, everyone who breathed it in felt a sudden, irresistible urge to yawn. Their pillows felt softer, their blankets felt warmer, and their dreams began to smell faintly of sweet, tart cranberries. One chilly Tuesday, the Sleepy Pie waddled out

Every year, when the first frost glazed the world in silver, the Sleepy Pie had one very important job: it had to gather the . It reached the edge of the Cranberry Bog,