The Hollow, an ivory-covered community house, was located in a peaceful suburban neighbourhood. It was a hub of activity for the local kids and teens, a place where they could escape the humdrum of school life, play games, and make plans for endless adventures. Among its regulars were four inseparable friends: Mole, Rat, Toad, and Badger.

Each of them had their quirks. Mole, a reserved but curious girl with a love for sketching nature, preferred quiet corners and daydreaming under trees. Rat was the practical one, a swimmer and a natural leader who knew every bend of the creek like the back of his hand. Next was Toad, the exuberant, rich kid, constantly chasing the latest trend—his current obsession being his collection of electric scooters. And Badger, the oldest, acted as a mentor to the group, offering wisdom with a no-nonsense attitude.

One spring afternoon, Mole sat on a bench outside The Hollow, her sketchbook balanced on her knees. She watched as Rat paddled his kayak along the creek, his strokes smooth and practiced.

“Mole!” Rat called, pulling up near the shore. “Why don’t you come out on the water? It seems like a perfect day for it.”

Before Mole could answer, the sound of screeching wheels and loud music filled the air. Toad zoomed into view on his newest electric scooter, his bright helmet adorned with flashing LED lights.

“Behold!” Toad declared, skidding to a stop. “The fastest, the coolest, and the most revolutionary scooter on the market!”

Rat raised an eyebrow. “What happened to the last one you called revolutionary?”

“Old news,” Toad said dismissively. “This baby has Bluetooth speakers and a speed boost button. Want to try it?”

“Not today,” Mole said, hiding a smile.

Just then, Badger arrived, carrying a heavy toolbox. He looked at Toad with his usual mix of affection and exasperation. “Still collecting gadgets, I see.”

“Not gadgets, Badger,” Toad corrected. “Technological marvels!”

Badger sighed. “Well, if you’re done ‘marveling’, I could use some help fixing the water pump by the community garden.”

Toad made a vague excuse about needing to charge his scooter, leaving the others to roll their eyes. They had grown used to Toad’s habit of avoiding hard work.

The days passed peacefully, and the friends continued their usual routines—until one afternoon when Toad came tearing into The Hollow, wild-eyed and breathless.

“Trouble!” he gasped. “Big trouble!”

“What’s happened now?” Badger asked, setting down his coffee.

“My scooter! It’s gone! Someone stole it!”

Rat frowned. “Are you sure? Maybe you left it somewhere.”

“No!” Toad insisted. “I parked it by the old oak tree, and now it’s gone! This is a disaster!”

The friends exchanged uneasy looks. Though Toad could be dramatic, theft wasn’t something to take lightly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help you find it,” Rat said firmly.

Their search led them through the neighbourhood, asking anyone who might have seen the missing scooter. At last, they came across a group of teenagers hanging out by the basketball court. One of them, a tall boy with a sly grin, was leaning on a scooter that looked suspiciously familiar.

“That’s mine!” Toad cried, pointing.

The boy shrugged. “Finders keepers.”

“It’s not yours,” Rat said, stepping forward. “Hand it over.”

The boy laughed, joined by his friends. “Well, I’m not gonna give it back to you. What are you gonna do about it?”

Before things could escalate, Badger intervened. “We’re not here to fight,” he said, his deep voice calm but commanding. “But if you don’t return the scooter, we will not hesitate to involve the authorities.”

The group hesitated, but the boy rolled his eyes and pushed the scooter toward Toad. “Whatever. It’s a lame ride anyway.”

Toad was overjoyed to have his prized possession back, but the incident left Mole shaken. “What if they come back for revenge?” she asked as they walked home.

“They won’t,” Badger assured her. “Bullies thrive on easy targets. Together, we’re anything but.”

That evening, the four friends gathered by the creek. Toad, despite his earlier relief, seemed unusually quiet.

“What’s on your mind?” Rat asked.

“I was scared,” Toad admitted. “When I saw those guys, I didn’t know what to do. But you—” He looked at his friends. “You stood by me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Mole tilted her head. “Why wouldn’t you deserve it?”

Toad shrugged. “I’m always chasing silly things—scooters, drones, whatever. I never help with the serious stuff, like Badger’s projects or your garden work. But today, you still had my back.”

“That’s what friends do,” Rat said simply.

“Even when you’re a bit of a handful,” Badger added with a smirk.

They all laughed, and Toad smiled, looking genuinely moved.

The next morning, Toad surprised everyone by showing up at the community garden with a shovel in hand. “So, where do we start?” he asked Badger enthusiastically.

And by the end of the day, Toad was covered in dirt from head to toe yet beaming with pride.

“Who knew hard work could feel so good?” he said as he wiped mud from his forehead.

“Well, it’s not just the work, you see,” Mole said, handing him a bottle of water. “It’s knowing you’re doing it with people who actually care about you.”

Hence, the summer rolled on, and the friends found themselves closer to each other than ever, for they had found more productive ways to spend time together and strengthen their bonds while retaining their individual personalities. Mole grew bolder, joining Rat on kayaking trips and even climbing trees to sketch the view from above. Rat, inspired by Toad’s newfound enthusiasm, took a break from his strict routines to try out some of Toad’s gadgets. And Toad, though still his exuberant self, became more thoughtful and generous with his time.

One day, as they all sat by the creek sharing sandwiches, Mole looked around at her friends and said, “You know, it’s funny. We’re all so different, but when we’re together, it just… works.”

“That’s because we stay loyal to each other, and it is worth more than any scooter, or gadget or treasure in the world,” Badger said proudly.

“To friendship!” Toad declared, raising his sandwich like a toast.

“To friendship,” the others echoed, their voices mingling with the gentle ripple of the creek.