The Treasure.

Mrs. Toadstool Haliflax stood watchful as a shepherd in the forest clearing.  
“Remember, class: be sensitive and alert!” She called, and she raised a hand with the bell glimmering like a golden dew drop on her palm. “Return to your place when the bell rings again!”
Olive Shroom stood on tiptoe. If she could win this, it would prove she was just as good as the sighted ones.
Ding!
The teacher rang her tiny bell and the foraging contest had begun. A chorus of excited scurryings and squeakings burst out as the class scattered into the undergrowth. Olive ran to keep up but the soft brown fur and pink tails of her fellow wood-mice had already vanished. Stumbling through bracken and pine needles, she felt the sun warm on her face. This must be a clearing.
For unknown reasons Olive had been born with a hazy cloud obscuring her vision, and though her eyes were as black and bright as two glass beads, and though she could hear the excited squeakings of her competitors as they snatched up blueberries and acorns, she herself could not see even the fruits that dangled a paw's width from her face.
Standing as tall as she could, Olive strained her weak gaze to find the slightest hint of edibles. She groped determinedly in the air in front of her but found only swaying seed-grass, warm and dry from the sun. A shuffling sound was heard to her left, and she scrambled towards it, paws outstretched, searching for the firm stem of a blueberry bush. Perhaps someone else had found—
A root caught her foot and she fell, squeaking with surprise, into a wild-rose thicket. Thorny branches stabbed and pricked as Olive pulled herself free with difficulty. Feeling her way forward on hands and knees, she groped for the smooth, hard surface of an acorn, but received only a thorny handful of rose-bush and a branch pricking across her face.
The strong aroma of rose blossoms wafted by, and frustration changed to a glint of inspiration. Who needed to see if they could smell? Olive raised her tiny pointed nose and inhaled, whiskers quivering. Was that the smell of ripe blueberries? She pounced recklessly in the direction of the smell, eagerly pushing through the undergrowth. But, the wafting scent drifted away, hidden behind earthy musk and pine-needles until evening Olive's wildly sniffing nose couldn't detect it. She could hear the rustling noises around her as her classmates scampered back to the clearing in anticipation of the bell, and knew there wasn't much time.
Then she smelled a strange smell; like earth but richer than earth; moist, spongy, rooty. . . And delicious. Olive moved carefully after the smell this time, carefully following its succulent trail, until—
It was here! Olive pawed through dead leaves and soft dirt, finally contacting the aromatic object, smooth and firm, yet pungent and rich; here was a treasure for the palate of a woodland king. Squeaking in triumph, she carried it back to the clearing at the sound of the golden bell.
After the results of the competition, she was not only little Olive, the sightless one, but the famous Olive Shroom, finder of the Truffle.

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