
Krishna
@krishnaa
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Moved by the sapling's quiet sorrow, Luma decided to help. She visited the wise old owl, the buzzing bees, even the grumpy badger, gathering dew, pollen, and nutrient-rich soil. Day by day, she tended to the sapling, whispering stories of stars and sunlight, brushing away the shadows.
Seasons passed. The sapling grew tall and strong, its leaves rustling with gratitude. It became the center of the forest—where birds built nests, insects danced in golden halos, and animals rested beneath its broad shade. Luma, now older, lay beneath the tree every evening, her heart full, listening to the rustle that said: thank you.
And in the hush of twilight, the forest glowed—not from the sun, but from the quiet magic of kindness sown and nurtured. 0 reply
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