But then she noticed small marks on the edge of the hole. Sharp, like claws, but too small for a predator. Remembering an old book her husband often read to their grandchildren — about underground tunnels and moles — she leaned closer.

The tunnel did indeed go deep, but not straight down, rather a bit sideways. It was not a human passage. And certainly not a malicious intent.

“Moles…” she whispered with relief. “Little, silly moles…”