Snoggle stomped through the Enchanted Forest. His paws were tight. His tail drooped. “Joy is big jumps and big roars,” he muttered. “I do not feel any.”

Alderwise, the old oak tree, opened his kind eyes. “Snoggle, little one, why is your heart so heavy tonight.”

“They say I am too much,” Snoggle said. “So I tried to be quiet. Now I feel empty.”

“Try one small joy,” Alderwise whispered. “Wait. Watch.”

Snoggle found a soft feather. He stroked it on the moss. A tiny laugh slipped out. He bounced a pebble into the pond. Ripples shone in the water.

Fireflies glowed like tiny lanterns. Snoggle sat very still. He listened to the gentle night.

“Is this joy,” he asked softly.

“Patience lets joy grow slowly,” Alderwise said. “Loud or quiet, joy can live in you.”

Snoggle took slow breaths. With each breath he named one good thing. “Mud on my paws. Quiet rain. Sharing berries.”

Warmth spread in his chest.

“I can be a gentle storm,” he said.

Leaves rustled above. The forest felt glad. Snoggle’s patient joy filled the soft night. Alderwise watched kindly as Snoggle smiled, calm and bright inside.

Snoggle believes joy must be wild and noisy, but Alderwise helps him discover that true joy can be soft, slow, and steady—growing gently when we give it time.