Marnie stretched toward the highest acacia leaves. They stayed just out of reach. She huffed, and the huff became a wobbly ribbon across the savannah.
She nibbled lower leaves to ignore it. But the ribbon kept growing, brushing her knees. She shook her head. It bounced back like a rubber band.
Marnie puffed her cheeks and blew hard. The ribbon floated away—then drifted back, wrapping around her neck like a scarf. She tried hiding behind a termite mound.
The ribbon peeked out from behind her ears. It was getting too tangled. She tripped—and tumbled into soft grass.
Her family gathered around. They wrapped their long necks in a gentle circle around her.
Marnie took a deep breath. Then another. The ribbon shrank to a tiny curl.
Marnie nuzzled her family's legs. The savannah hummed with cicadas and rustling leaves.
She offered a leaf to her sister. The sister bounced on her hooves. 'For you,' Marnie thought.
A butterfly landed on the leaf. Marnie watched it, very still.
The savannah was warm. Marnie's family stayed close. It was a good day.
