The bunny was the happiest creature in the meadow, a soft ball of fur with wide, trusting eyes and a heart too big for his tiny body. He bounced from flower to flower, offering tomatoes as red as the morning sun, fresh hemp that smelled of earth and sky, and smooth gray stones that, when held, made the world feel a little softer, a little kinder.
And oh, how he loved! He loved the crickets that sang to the moon, the deer with their slow, thoughtful eyes, the field mice who nibbled at the edges of his offerings. He gave without thought, without hesitation. His world was made of warmth, of sharing, of the gentle hum of life itself.
But then came the wolf.