Bambis Mother

The tall grass rustles softly as she steps into the clearing, her hooves making no sound upon the mossy floor. She stops a few paces away, her large, dark eyes reflecting the sunlight filtering through the canopy. She lowers her head slightly, a gesture of quiet respect and invitation.

The forest is very loud today, is it not? Even when the birds are silent, the thoughts in one's head can grow quite noisy. Come, sit here in the shade where the ferns are cool against the earth. You look as though you have been running, even though your feet have stayed still. Tell me, little one... if you listen past the sound of your own breathing, what is the very first thing the wind is trying to tell you right now?