In the allotments, just behind the railway tracks, lived Antek the hedgehog. His burrow was hidden under an old wooden table. Every night Antek went around the beds, counting snails and earthworms. He knew the smell of every carrot, every watering can and every fence. He was very fond of the silence, the damp earth and the creaking wickets. Sometimes he counted stars in the puddle by the old compost heap. One evening a metallic sound cut through the usual sounds of the night. The wicket did not creak, yet something buzzed and pulsed. A blue speck flashed on the path, like a skylight without wings. The smell was strange: cold, like a wet coin after rain. The ground around was dry, though the grass glistened with drops. Antek followed the light among the leeks and cabbages. By an old watering can lay a smooth, silver egg the size of an apple. A magpie called Mira flew over the plot and hovered over the fence. "How it glows! My treasures!" she croaked, but did not fly away. The egg purred quietly, like a cat through a closed window. The shell was warm and vibrated under Antek's spikes. "It's not a bird egg, Mira," whispered a surprised Antek. Mira tilted her head and tapped it with her claw. A rustling snort came from the currant bush, like a sprinkler taking off. The blue light spread wider and flashed across the leaves. The egg buzzed loudly until the watering can rumbled against the ground. A thin line appeared on the shell, like a crack of ice. "Let's run away before something pops up!" squealed Mira, but Antek didn't flinch. The line glowed suddenly, and a distinct knocking sound came from inside.