The next morning, the sun rose over Fernstead like a golden coin.
Its light spilled across the rice fields, turning the water into ripples of silver and gold.
The air smelled of wet grass and smoke from cooking fires.
The children were already awake, gathering near the wooden fences.
Their laughter echoed through the village like music.
Jack walked proudly beside Goru, his chest puffed out.
Goru was carrying me, tiny Erin, wrapped snugly in a cloth sling tied to his chest.
Jack carried Anna, her silver hair glinting under the sunlight as she babbled softly.
Behind them trailed the rest of the children singing, giggling, and teasing each other as they walked.
That day, Jack was no longer called the Rice Monster.
He had earned a new name Rice Hero.
"Rice Hero! Rice Hero!" the children chanted, circling around him.
Jack frowned at first.
He didn't like the name, not because it was bad, but because he knew it came from all the times he'd eaten too much rice.
But he didn't want to be a bad friend not after the fall, not after the laughter.
So he smiled and shouted,
"No matter what, kids! When we grow up, I will protect you all!"
The children clapped and cheered.
Even Anna clapped her tiny hands, though she didn't know why.
Then, from the nearby farm, one of the farmers called out with a grin,
"Jack! If you're going to protect them, why don't you start by protecting yourself from the food you eat?"
Everyone burst into laughter even the adults who were working in the fields.
Jack's cheeks turned red, but this time, he laughed too.
He laughed so hard his stomach shook,
laughed until even the pain of being teased felt warm.
That day, Jack truly became the Rice Hero.
The Journey to the Blooming Tree
As the sun rose higher, all the children decided to walk to the woods at the edge of the village the place where the great Blooming Tree grew.
It was the season when the tree would finally flower, its petals falling like snow.
Every year, the children would go there to wait for the elders, who would bless the tree for another season of life.
So they set out together
Goru carrying me,
Jack carrying Anna,
and the others trailing behind, humming songs made up on the spot.
The forest path was bright that day, light filtering through the leaves, making tiny spots of gold dance on the ground.
Birds chirped overhead, and the sound of running water came from the stream nearby.
When they reached the Blooming Tree, they sat in a circle beneath it.
The petals above had not yet fallen, but the children could already feel the air changing
a gentle wind, soft and sweet.
They waited and waited, expecting the elders to arrive soon.
Morning turned to noon, and the elders still hadn't come.
Jack yawned.
"Maybe they forgot," he said.
"No," Goru replied, standing up, "I'll go check if they're on the way."
Jack frowned.
"Why you? I can go faster."
Goru's eyes narrowed playfully.
"Oh? You're the Rice Hero now, but yesterday you pushed me! So let's see who's faster."
The other children gasped.
Another challenge!
And before anyone could stop them, both boys dashed down the trail their laughter echoing through the woods as the others followed, shouting and cheering.
The Missing Girl
But in their excitement, they forgot something.
Two things, actually.
They forgot me little Erin who could only sit and watch.
And they forgot Anna, who had just learned to creep.
I was left there in the grass, my small hands waving, my voice crying softly.
Anna, curious and brave, began to creep after the others her little fingers brushing the fallen petals.
By the time Goru and Jack reached the edge of the woods, the elders had already arrived.
My father, Paul, stood among them with Mr. Gareth and other villagers.
"Where are Erin and Anna?" Paul asked, looking around.
Goru froze.
Jack's eyes widened.
And then all the children screamed and ran back toward the tree.
When they reached the spot, they found me crying softly under the shade,
but Anna was gone.
Panic swept through them.
Jack dropped to his knees, searching the grass.
Goru called her name over and over.
By the time the adults arrived, the whole forest echoed with the sound of her name.
The Night Search
That evening, as the sun disappeared behind the hills, lanterns were lit all across Fernstead.
Men carried torches, women held lamps, and even the older children followed, calling Anna's name through the fields and along the streams.
"Anna! Anna!"
"Silver-haired Anna, where are you?"
The light of the flames shimmered in the night air.
Even the crickets seemed to stop singing.
The village that once laughed was now silent and worried.
Hours passed.
Midnight came.
Still, no one could find her.
The Sleeping Girl
My mother, tired and worried, told my father,
"Take the men and keep searching. I'll bring the children home. Maybe she went back."
She carried me on her back, walked through the quiet streets, and reached our home.
The door was half open.
She froze.
Her heart raced was it a thief?
A stranger?
She pushed the door open slowly and gasped.
There, by the firelight,
wrapped in one of her shawls,
was Anna, sleeping peacefully.
The fire crackled softly beside her, warming her tiny face.
Her little hands were curled under her chin,
and her silver hair shone like the moon.
My mother sighed, tears slipping down her cheeks.
She picked Anna up gently and whispered,
"You scared the whole village, little one."
Then she smiled,
looked at me still awake on her back,
and said softly,
"Erin, your sister's safe. The night is kind after all."
Outside, the lanterns still flickered in the distance,
but in our small home, there was peace again.
And so the village that once trembled in worry
ended the night in laughter,
telling stories of the day Anna went missing but never left home.