After the stunning and eerie wonders of Other Woodland, the next morning in Mr. Owl's classroom felt oddly normal. The familiar smell of old paper and ink lingered in the silence as sunlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. With a million whirling hues and the unwavering stare of button eyes still fresh in her mind, Beaver sat at her little wooden desk and looked out the window. The boundary between her familiar world and the fantastical other world was hazy in her dreams, as she had not slept well.

Beaver knew she had to tell her friends when Mr. Owl finally sat on his branch at the front of the classroom, looking around at the students with his round, wise eyes. It was a strange, shimmering bubble that threatened to burst, a secret too big to keep to herself.

Beaver fidgeted, nervously tracing the worn edges of her notebook with her paw as Mr. Owl started his lesson on the various tree species in the Woodland. Goose was carefully preening a feather; she was focused on the task and did not make her usual happy chirps. Fox's brow was furrowed in concentration as he attempted to balance a twig on his nose. Bear's bulky body was bent over his notebook as he silently drew something. Apparently more focused on the buzzing fly by the window than the lesson, Rabbit was twitching his nose.

Beaver finally blurted out, "Mr. Owl?," as Mr. Owl paused to ask a question concerning oak leaves. Can I... can I share something with everyone?"

Everybody looked in her direction. Mr. Owl's feathery eyebrows shot up in mild surprise as he blinked slowly. "Of course, Beaver. Is everything alright?"

Beaver inhaled deeply as her heart began to beat a bit more quickly. "It's... it's about last night."

Goose's bright eyes were full of curiosity as she tilted her head and stopped preening. The twig fell to the ground as Fox lost his footing. Bear raised his head from his sketch, a question in his soft eyes. With Beaver at the center of his attention, Rabbit is ears perked up.

Beaver said, "Last night," in a slightly tremulous voice, "I... I found another world."

A wave of perplexed whispers swept through the tiny classroom.

Another world? Goose chirped. Beyond the Big River, perhaps?"

Fox gave a little snort of laughter. "Another world? Have you been reading those adventure novels too much lately, Beaver?"

Bear frowned slightly. "Beaver, what do you mean? Last night, we were all at home."

Rabbit leaped forward, his nose moving quickly. "Where have you been without us?"

Beaver vigorously shook her head. "No, no! It was here. In my house. Behind my bookshelf."

Her friends all had a puzzled expression on their faces.

"Behind your bookshelf?" Goose reiterated in a bewildered tone. But all that is there is the wall.

"Just like that!" Beaver's voice rose with anticipation and a hint of residual anxiety as she exclaimed. However, it was not just the wall. The door was there. A small, secret door."

Fox's lips were pulled into a playful smirk as he raised an eyebrow. "A door hidden away? Leading? To a land of giant acorns and talking squirrels?"

Beaver recalled the glistening flowers and the whirling sky as she said, "It felt like that," her voice now softer. "Everything was similar to Woodland, but in a different way. More vibrant. Better... more ideal."

Bear, still frowning, moved in his chair. "Perfect? What do you mean 'perfect'?"

"The flowers glowed," Beaver explained, her eyes wide. "The trees were taller and the leaves were so green. And the sky... oh, the sky was amazing! Swirling colors I've never seen, and the constellations pulsed with light."

Rabbit's eyes widened slightly. Flowers that glow? Pulsing stars? Beaver, are you certain you were not dreaming?

Once more, Beaver shook her head. "No! It was real. And my friends were there too."

"We were?" Goose chirped and cast a perplexed glance around at the others. "But... I was in my nest sleeping."

"Not you, exactly," Beaver explained, recalling those unwavering eyes with a chill down her spine. "That other you was the one. Another goose. "With button eyes."

There was a stunned silence in the classroom. Button eyes?

Fox started giggling. "Eyes like buttons? How are you feeling, Beaver? Have you had a head injury?"

Beaver's face turned red. "Not at all! I mean it! All of you were there. Other Fox, Other Bear, Other Rabbit... they all had button eyes."

As the laughter subsided, a growing sense of discomfort and perplexity took its place.

Bear's voice was gentle but concerned. "Button eyes, Beaver? As if on a doll, perhaps?"

Beaver nodded while keeping her eyes on the ground. "Yes. They were not you, even though they sounded and behaved like you. "They were... different."

Goose and Fox looked at each other anxiously. "Other us? With button eyes? This sounds... very strange, Beaver."

With trepidation, Rabbit hopped from paw to paw.

Beaver spoke slowly. "They were... pleasant. All of these amazing things were shown to me. A library with floating books, fireflies that danced in patterns, a waterfall that transformed into glistening mist..."

As she observed her friends' facial expressions, her voice faltered. They gazed at her in astonishment and concern.

Fox gave his head a paw tap. "Floating books? Sparkling mist? Are you certain you are not making this up, Beaver?

"I am not!" Beaver demanded, raising her voice once more. "And there was an other mother. She had button eyes and resembled my mother. Additionally, there is another Kit and another father.

The classroom fell into a thick silence. Mr. Owl cleared his throat softly after listening thoughtfully for a while.

"Beaver," he said quietly, "do you also mean your new doll? The button-eyed one you once discovered?"

Beaver's ears hung down. "But... but it wasn't a doll! It was real! They talked to me! They wanted me to stay there forever!"

Goose's eyes were wide with sympathy as she gazed at Beaver. "Maybe you had a bad dream, Beaver."

Fox added, "Yeah," trying to sound comforting but displaying genuine confusion. "Dreams can feel very real at times."

Slowly, Bear nodded. "Beaver, you seem to have been really creative last night."

Hoping closer, Rabbit gave Beaver's arm a light tap. "Do you feel alright? When we return to our burrows, perhaps you ought to take a quick nap."

Beaver's heart sank as she turned to face her friends. They did not think she was real. They believed that creepy doll was the reason she had gone all coo-coo. Under their doubtful eyes, the recollection of the colorful but unnerving Other Woodland felt abruptly far away and surreal. She felt the weight of the secret, now combined with the sting of incredulity. How could she explain to her closest friends something so bizarre and unreal? From the depths of her memory, the button eyes appeared to be staring back at her, a silent, eerie reminder of a world they could not even fathom.

As Beaver and her friends boarded the school bus, the sound of its familiar rumble filled the air. Mr. Fox waved to them from behind the wheel, as he always does. Beaver took a seat beside Skunk, who settled in with a soft swishing of her fluffy tail. A few seats ahead were Snail and Franklin, Snail sitting comfortably on Franklin's shoulder with his eyestalks swaying slightly, and Franklin's smooth shell shining in the morning light.

The feeling of the other world persisted, even in the middle of the bus's normal morning chatter. Her voice was hushed with a hint of frustration and urgency as she leaned in Skunk's direction.

"You must believe me, Skunk," she muttered. "It was not a dream. In fact, there was a different world directly behind my bookshelf."

Skunk, who was usually very patient, blinked at Beaver with a hint of bewilderment in her bright black eyes. "Another world? With the glowing flowers and the button-eyed you?"

"Exactly!" Beaver cried out in relief that Skunk had at least partially recalled her lecture.

At that moment, Franklin's voice, tinged with a well-known frustration, returned to them. "Do not get caught up in that again, Beaver. Really, button eyes? What will you think of next—a cheese-based world?" Snail on his shoulder seemed to nod slowly in agreement, his little antennae twitching.

A little disheartened, Beaver swiveled in her chair. "It's not an obsession, Franklin! It was true! And you were also present! Other Franklin, with button eyes that just stared and stared." The recollection made her shudder a little.

Franklin rolled his eyes, causing Snail to sway unsteadily. "I was sleeping soundly right here, Beaver, in my own shell. I was not in some fantasy world behind your bookshelf, and I did not have button eyes."

"But you were!" Beaver persisted, raising her voice a bit, attracting a few interested looks from her peers. "You said the night sky was amazing in Other Woodland, and you pointed to a doorway that glowed!"

Franklin gave a dramatic sigh. "Another Woodland? We all know you have a very vivid imagination, Beaver. Sometimes, however, you have to keep in mind what is real and what is—well, not real."

With a slow, thoughtful tone, Snail added, "Yes. Glowy plants and button eyes. Very unlikely."

Skunk gave Beaver a gentle pat on the arm. "Beaver, I think you thought it was real. But maybe it was just a very, very strong dream."

Beaver felt a wave of disappointment sweep over her as she sagged back in her chair. Normally so understanding, even Skunk seemed to believe she was making this up. Beaver gazed out the window as the bus rumbled on, transporting them to school, the actual, everyday Woodland trees fading into the distance. Her friends' incredulity overshadowed the memory of the colorful, bizarre Other Woodland, making it seem more and more distant. Possibly they were correct. Perhaps it was only a dream. However, the eerie sensation in her heart told her otherwise. The image of the too-perfect smiles and those unblinking button eyes kept coming back to her. She could not believe it was a mental image.

The bus rumbled along, and Beaver was still feeling a bit down, staring out the window at the familiar blur of green and brown. The scene from the other night, the glowing flowers, the whispering waterfall, those eerie button eyes—all of it kept playing over and over in her mind. It had seemed so genuine.

Out of nowhere, two figures appeared behind her seat, towering over her. Beaver whirled around, gasping.

It was Raccoon and Fox. However, there was a terrible problem with their eyes. They stared blankly ahead, two big round buttons taped over their eyelids. Fox had even succeeded in making his buttons appear sewn on by taping a piece of string to them. Raccoon was moving slowly and deliberately, his button eyes uncannily still as he stared at her.

"Welcome... to... Other... Bus," Fox's button eyes remained unblinking as he droned in a spooky voice.

Raccoon's button eyes followed her every step as he uttered a low, drawn-out "Mrowww..." through gritted teeth as well.

Yelping, Beaver leaped back in her chair. Her heart hammered in her chest. Even though it was a joke, the sight of those button eyes made her feel uneasy again. It was too similar to what she had seen in the other world.

"Cut it out!" Beaver exclaimed, her voice trembling slightly. "That's not funny!"

Raccoon and Fox erupted in laughter, their eye buttons twitching as they moved. Their normal mischievous eyes were exposed as they ripped the tape off in a hurry.

"Gotcha!" Fox chuckled, holding up the two buttons on a piece of sticky tape.

Raccoon smiled, flashing his tiny, pointed teeth. Beaver, you should have seen your face! You looked like you'd seen a ghost!"

Beaver, however, was not giggling. Anxiety tightened in a knot in her stomach. She reiterated, "It is not funny," in a still-shaky voice. "It reminds me... of the other world."

Franklin's brow furrowed as he swung around in his chair. "Fox! Raccoon! That wasn't very nice. You know Beaver was a little freaked out this morning." Snail appeared to retreat a little into his shell while remaining perched on his shoulder.

Goose chirped softly, "Yeah, guys," after watching the entire event with wide eyes. "That was a bit mean."

Raccoon and Fox exchanged glances, their lighthearted smiles dimming a bit when they realized how truly distressed Beaver was.

"Sorry, Beaver," Fox muttered, appearing somewhat sheepish. "We just thought we would make a little joke because you were taking the button eyes so seriously."

Raccoon gave a nod of approval. "I apologize. We did not really mean to frighten you."

Beaver gave herself a hug, still a little jarred. "It just... it looked just like them." She glanced at Franklin and Snail. "You didn't see them. Their eyes were just black buttons that did not move or blink like regular eyes do. It was creepy."

Franklin sighed and turned back in his seat. "Well, I'm glad those two knuckleheads' eyes are back to normal." He didn't sound entirely convinced about Beaver's story, but he seemed to understand that the prank had upset her.

It was a little quieter for the remainder of the bus ride. Fox and Raccoon kept glancing at Beaver apologetically. But Beaver could not get rid of the eerie sensation. Even though it was only a joke, the prank had sharpened her perception of the odd, button-eyed people from the other world, leading her to question whether it had all been a dream or something much stranger.

Beaver trudged off the school bus, her tail dragging a little in the dirt. She kept thinking about Fox and Raccoon with those taped-on buttons, a ridiculous joke that had somehow increased her anxiety. Even if her friends thought she was being silly, she could not get rid of the feeling that what she had experienced was truly strange.

She spotted her father, Mr. Beaver, outside his woodworking station as she ascended the path to her dam house. He was carefully sanding a piece of smooth bark, his usual spectacles resting on his nostrils. As she came closer, he raised his head, scowling a little behind his glasses.

"Hey there," he said. "You appear to be in a bit of a slump. Is everything okay at school?

Beaver simply murmured "Hi, Dad" and moved past him in the direction of their comfortable dam house's entrance.

With his head cocked in mild bewilderment, Mr. Beaver watched her leave. It was unusual that she had not even stopped to tell him about her day, and he could see that her shoulders were slouched. Perhaps she had a small argument with her friends, he thought as he let out a soft sigh. Young'uns, he thought to himself, even the furry ones, could be a bit mysterious sometimes. He shrugged his wide, hairy shoulders and resumed his sanding, the sound of the sandpaper hitting the wood filling the air with a rhythm. Whatever was bothering Beaver would likely go away by dinnertime, he reasoned. He had no idea that his daughter was having weird thoughts about button eyes and other worlds.

Beaver sighed and pushed her room's door open. Her collection of smooth river stones, her drawings, and the reassuring aroma of cedar made it her safe haven. Even her comfortable room, though, felt a little...off today. Her eyes kept darting to the bookshelf, to the place where the small, hidden door was concealed by the loose piece of bark. It was a continual reminder of the fantastical world she had seen, like a tiny, persistent voice in the back of her mind.

Beaver ran to her computer to try to divert her attention. Franklin had once visited her while she was out shopping for groceries, she recalled. He had been clicking away, making the little beaver avatars work hard, completely absorbed in this dam-building video game. Although her dad usually built real dams, it had looked like a lot of fun.

On the screen, she saw the game icon: a cartoon beaver standing proudly beside an extremely impressive dam. The game came to life with a click, and the room was filled with lively music and happy, watery sound effects.

Beaver gave the game her whole attention. She created spillways, positioned virtual logs with care, and watched with satisfaction as her digital dam became more intricate and powerful. It required all of her focus to ensure that the structure held firm and the water flowed perfectly.

Her gaze would occasionally stray to the bookshelf, though, even as she skillfully handled the game's challenges. Only a glance, a brief moment of discomfort. She tried to convince herself that it was just a silly prank and an odd dream that were making her imagination run wild. A persistent glitch in her attempt to divert her attention, however, was the memory of the other mother's too-sweet smile and those unblinking button eyes.

"It was just a game," she whispered to herself as she frantically clicked to add another virtual log. "Much like this one. Not real."

There was, however, a nagging doubt in the back of her mind that perhaps—just possibly—the world behind the bookshelf was more real than she wanted to think. And that hidden passage seemed to hum with a quiet, eerie energy the more she tried to ignore it.