Haseef heard a faint peep near the waterfall. He pushed through hanging moss and found a tiny blue bird with a bent wing. The water crashed against the rocks, spraying his sneakers.
Haseef carried the bird home in his pocket, feeling its heartbeat against his palm. He tried a red berry and a yellow seed, but the bird refused both.
He offered a drop of water on a leaf, and the bird drank, then sneezed a tiny cloud of dust.
Haseef set the bird on the windowsill each morning, watching it hop and stretch.
One day, the bird flapped hard, lifted into the air, and circled his head twice. A blue feather drifted down, landing on his knee.
Haseef waved as the bird flew toward the waterfall. He picked up the feather, held it to the sunlight, and ran back to the roar of water, whistling a new tune.
He held the feather up to the bright sunlight, examining it closely. Behind him, the window showed the jungle and waterfall in the distance.
The young boy ran along a moss-covered path toward the roaring waterfall, a blue feather clutched in his hand. He whistled, head tilted back, joy evident in his posture.