Fares stepped past the tree line and into the forest. A chorus of birdsong rang out around him. One sneaker hovered over a glowing blue mushroom — he listened.
A fox appeared between two roots — bright as an apple. It sat looking up at him. Fares crouched and held out a finger.
The fox sniffed his knuckle, then batted at his thumb with one soft paw. Fares laughed and wiggled his fingers again. The fox trotted ahead, then looked back, tail flicking.
The fox trotted ahead and paused, looking back. Fares followed down a path tucked between giant ferns until a stream crossed the trail. The fox hopped across stones with no hesitation. Fares tried to follow — plop — right into the shallow water.
The fox barked once, as if to say, 'Mine.' It led Fares to a mossy bank where an old wooden boat sat half-buried in vines. He pulled the vines free and hoisted the boat onto his head.
The fox jumped right in, and when Fares pushed off, the boat drifted into a wide clearing full of singing flowers. Every petal opened and played a note. Fares dropped to his knees and covered his ears, but he was grinning.
Fares splashed his hands in the grassy clearing and the flowers sang even louder, hitting a high squeaky note. The fox barked along. Fares howled back.
Suddenly every bird, every flower, and every leaf joined the song. They lay side by side on the warm grass as the music swelled, and Fares reached over to rest his hand on the fox's fluffy tail.
The forest hummed all around them — every tree, every leaf, every breath of wind. Fares closed his eyes and listened.
When Fares opened his eyes, the fox was still there, sitting just beside him. The forest had gone quiet, but it felt like it was waiting for more music.
