Cool air moved slowly near the wood line. A leaf turned in the air. It turned, then turned again, almost touching the ground.

Bracken followed beneath it. “It keeps missing.”

Peeba waddled after him. “Mmm. Maybe it is thinking.”

The leaf drifted across the grass, past a stone, and toward the path. They moved with it. The air softened. The leaf settled beside the path.

Bracken looked at it. “So that is where.”

The air moved once more. Then it was still.

A flat stone rested beside the stream, dry and still. Bracken stepped onto it. “It does not wobble.”

Peeba joined him. “Mmm. A good waiting stone.”

Thimble stood at the edge. “It is patient.”

Rill climbed up last. They all fit. They stood there a moment. Then they stepped away. The stone stayed. The water slipped past it.

Soft evening light spread across the grass beyond the hill. Bracken looked out. “Everything is getting quiet.”

Peeba nodded. “Mmm. Mine too.”

Thimble leaned close. Rill lay back and watched the sky change. They stayed. The air cooled. The grass softened. The light faded.

And the meadow rested.

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