In the heart of a magical garden, a young fairy bends low over the dark soil.
Flora spots something tiny and silver half-buried in the dirt — a seed that ticks like a whispering clock.
She lifts it to her lips and blows gently. Tick-tick-tick — a sound like a whispering clock.
Flora carries the seed to her favorite flowerpot, pokes a hole with her toe, and drops it inside.
She pours water from her acorn cup and waits. Nothing happens.
She waits some more. Still nothing. Flora hums a tune and taps the soil with her wing.
She tries a silly dance, stomping her feet. A ladybug stumbles over and perches right on her nose. Flora laughs.
A whole week passes. The pot is still just soil. Flora sits beside it, her wings drooping flat.
The garden buzzes with bees and birds, but the pot stays stubbornly quiet.
One morning, a green spiral unfurls from the dirt — a tiny curled fern stretching its fingers toward the light.
Flora presses her palm against the warm leaf. It tickles. She grins and whispers, "Hello there."
The little fern curls one finger toward her, as if saying hello back.
