Morning light slid through the Enchanted Forest. At the center stood Alderwise, the old tree with kind eyes. He listened to birds, breeze, and tiny footsteps, quiet and still.
Two young raccoons rushed to his roots.
“Alderwise, our game pieces blew away,” they cried. “Fix it now.”
A rabbit ran up.
“My flowers will not open,” she said. “Tell them to hurry.”
A small fox paced in circles.
“I tried to learn a song. It is too hard. I want to stop.”
Their voices tangled. Everyone wanted fast answers.
Alderwise did not shout. He did not thrash his branches. Leaves brushed each other in a soft slow clap.
“Place your paws on my trunk,” he said. “Close your eyes. Count ten breaths with me.”
They huffed, but they tried.
One breath. Two. Three. The forest hummed.
On breath eight, the wind grew gentle.
On breath nine, the raccoons saw their bright pieces caught on a low bush.
On breath ten, one small bud near the rabbit slowly opened.
The fox sang his tune again, slower. The notes fit.
The raccoons walked, not ran, and picked up each piece.
The rabbit watched more buds wake in their own time.
“Why did that work,” the fox asked.
“Patience lets you see,” Alderwise said. “When you race past each moment, you miss the help already near you.”
They sat in his shade.
The raccoons set their game.
The rabbit smiled at her blooming flowers.
The fox sang one line at a time, proud of each clear note.
High on the mountain, the Golden Seed shone at the castle, guarding every trait.
In the forest below, Alderwise guarded the quiet way to reach them.
He stood, roots deep, branches wide, teaching that gentle waiting can guide even the busiest hearts.
What We Learned
Alderwise shows that patience is not doing nothing; it is slowing down enough to notice answers that are already nearby—buds opening, pieces waiting to be found, songs learned one line at a time.
