Once upon a starry night, the Little Light flickered. Alone, yet never quite lonely.
She whispered secrets to the dark, secrets the old trees knew but dared not share.
Sometimes the Little Light saw shapes — shadowy, quiet, watching.
At times, they'd dance, their long, flowing arms stretching towards her glow.
Would you follow the paths they twirl upon? Or would you rather listen to the wind's song?
The Whispers