There are moments in the forest that feel louder because of their silence.
Baby Bean’s fall was one of them.
After he was gathered back into his mother’s arms, they stayed still. Time stretched. The air cooled beneath the shade, and the forest seemed to lean in, then step back respectfully.
His mother groomed him gently, slow strokes meant to soothe more than clean. Baby Bean relaxed inch by inch, the tension leaving his body before his grip did.
This was not about fear. It was about reassurance.
She chose not to return immediately to the heights. Instead, she sat with him, letting the world settle again. From where they rested, the tall tree rose above them, unchanged. Just part of the forest’s long story.
Eventually, Baby Bean lifted his head. His curiosity returned before his confidence. His mother watched closely, ready.
When they moved on, it was together.
