Story 43 of 48, about 2 minutes to read

Dew Light

A refuge among the branches of the morning

The first light filters through the leaves while the wood breathes softly. You walk unhurried, brushing the low branches, toward the murmur of a hidden stream.

The dew dissolves slowly, as if the wood were whispering its farewell to the silence of the night.

The whole story is in the book, with its full-page illustration.