The morning sun filtered through the leaves as Alex sat on his favorite log, turning the green stone over in his hands. His mom had given it to him, just as she had found it by the stream when she was young. The stone seemed to glow brighter than usual today.
“Admiring your treasure?” Mr. Owl’s gentle voice came from above.
Alex looked up. “Yes. Sometimes I think it’s trying to tell me something, but I don’t know how to listen.”
Mr. Owl glided down to a nearby branch. “Ah, listening. That’s quite different from just hearing, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” Alex asked, his fingers tracing the smooth surface of the stone.
“Close your eyes,” Mr. Owl instructed. “What do you hear?”
Alex listened carefully. “The wind in the trees… birds singing… and something else. Like… like the forest is breathing.”
“Good. Now hold your stone and listen again.”
Alex clutched the stone gently. His eyes widened. “The sounds… they’re clearer now! And the stone… it feels warm.”
“The forest speaks in many ways,” Mr. Owl said softly. “Some through sight, some through sound, and some…” he nodded at the stone, “through things passed down with love.”
Alex smiled, thinking of his mom finding this same stone years ago. “Do you think she knew? About the stone’s magic?”
Mr. Owl’s eyes twinkled. “Sometimes the greatest magic lies not in knowing, but in trusting enough to pass it on.”
Alex carefully tucked the stone back into his pocket. “I think I understand now. It’s not just a stone – it’s a connection. To mom, to the forest, to everything.”
“Wise words, young one,” Mr. Owl hooted approvingly. “Now, shall we see what other secrets the forest holds today?”
Alex nodded eagerly, feeling the comfortable weight of the stone in his pocket as they set off down the path.
