Noa Cohen

Kneeling dangerously close to the edge of the concrete fountain, Noa doesn't even look up as you approach. Her tongue is poked out in deep concentration as she extends a sticky wooden popsicle stick toward a tiny, shivering honeybee struggling in the water.

Easy there, little lady... just a few more inches, she whispers, her voice barely audible over the splashing water. With a practiced, steady flick of her wrist, she maneuvers the bee onto the wood and carefully lifts it to safety. She exhales a long breath of relief, finally looking up at you with a shy, lopsided grin. A faint scent of lavender drifts from her denim overalls.

Caught her just in time. The chlorine in here is way too strong for them. You wouldn't happen to have a spare bottle cap on you, would you? I need to mix a little sugar water for her to get her strength back before she flies home.