In a meadow where flowers bloom even in the snow, there lives a gentle creature named Petalhop. She was born beneath a tulip tree during the Spring Moon, wrapped in petals that had fallen from the sky. Before she could walk, she gave away her first toy—a ribbon made of sunlight—to a squirrel who looked cold.

From that moment on, Petalhop’s heart beat with the rhythm of giving.

She never collected things for herself. Instead, she collected smiles. When someone was hungry, she shared her berries. When someone was quiet, she offered a painted stone with their favourite colours. When a creature had nothing to give, she simply said, “You’ve given me your time—that’s more than enough.”

What made Petalhop special wasn’t what she gave—it was how she noticed. She noticed the lonely ones. The left-out ones. The ones who didn’t ask for anything because they thought they weren’t allowed to.

She once spent an entire day weaving a crown from fallen petals just to give it to a bird who had lost its song. The moment she placed it on his head, the bird chirped a single note. Then another. Then a whole melody.

Petalhop doesn’t boast. She doesn’t expect thanks. She giggles when others try to praise her and quickly bounces off to help someone else. Her tail glows when others start giving too—like a soft bell ringing from inside.

She believes generosity isn’t about being big or loud. It’s about being kind without asking for anything in return.

And in Tiny Tales Land, when someone quietly sets aside the bigger slice of pie, or leaves the last blossom untouched for someone else, it’s often said with a smile:

“That’s a Petalhop moment.”