In a forest, the wind stole something away: a leaf. It moved from the tree, aimless — no feelings, no memories, only a piece of plant.
It spun loose, a small exile in the air.
It fell toward the dark hush of the forest floor, anonymous and light.
It landed on the ground, pressed and broken under passing animals.
Fragments scattered into the soil, blending with dust and forgotten roots
until nothing remained. The final creature was a worm, devouring it whole.
The worm pressed on, chewing through leaves.
The harsh air leaned against him.
Within it lurked danger, carried past prowling animals.
"I should hurry before a creature catches me alive!..." the worm thought. Then he froze.
"…What? …What's happening…?! …I can hear myself?"
For the first time, the world seemed to echo back at him.
"That's strange… I was only moving, sensing, eating… alone."
It stopped in its place; a sudden realization snapped through him.
"How wonderful this is!" the worm curled in excitement.
He paused on the ground, then swung in a zigzag across the grass.
A strange joy surged through his tiny body, a thrill he had never known.
"NOW I CAN LIVE MY L—"
Until he was caught by a bird and eaten alive.
The forest returned to quiet, as if nothing had happened at all.
Flap… flap… flap…
"Err… what? Wasn't I eaten?!" the worm's awareness asked, disoriented.
The bird sighed. A strange unease coiled inside him, heavy and unfamiliar — the bird's first feeling.
"What?! Where am I? Everything was darkness until suddenly—I'm here?!"
The bird flailed in the air, wings thrashing without control.
Each beat of his wings felt louder than thought itself, rattling the new voice in his head.
A single robin riding the air.
After a brief struggle, the robin found balance, gliding smoothly through the blue sky, straight as an arrow.
The wind pressed against his wings, crisp and endless.
For the first time, direction felt like a decision.
Each beat of his wings seemed tied to thought, as if motion obeyed awareness.
"Just… woah… what kind of ability is this?" The robin gazed down at the river, a blue thread stitched between two fields of green.
The sight pulsed with wonder, more vivid than anything he had known in darkness.
Hours passed, yet to the robin they felt like moments of pure beauty.
The robin's speed slowed.
"What's that feeling…?" He brushed his throat with a wing, unsettled.
"I don't know, but my instincts tell me to go to that blue, beautiful thing…"
The robin dove—not with force but with the faltering drift of an arrow losing speed.
The river spread wide, gleaming as though it held answers. The robin landed at its edge.
The ground felt cool beneath his claws, yet his throat burned hotter with every breath.
"I feel dry…" The robin's eyes lingered on the river, doubt clouding his gaze.
He approached with small, deliberate steps, his gaze fixed on the blue.
"Why am I doing this…?" the robin wondered.
The question circled in his mind, but his body leaned forward as though it had already decided.
"S… stop! Please! Maybe it's a threat…"
As his beak touched the water, hesitation rippled through every small movement.
…Or maybe not?
The silence of the forest bent inward, waiting for what would come next.
His throat carried the water down, and his eyes widened in surprise.
The taste was sharp and alive, nothing like the emptiness he remembered.
"Oh… oh!!!" The sound slipped from him, softer than the ripples he made.
"I feel more alive than I was…"
The river's surface quivered, mirroring his nib; every tremor doubled in the water.
Something unseen stirred beneath the blue, as if listening.
The robin paused, as if his tiny body had warned him.
"It feels… unsatisfying." His nib broke the water's skin; drops trailed as his eyes caught something uncanny below. Fear jolted him backward.
"?!"
The surface rippled outward, carrying the secret away but leaving the dread behind.
"What's that?" The robin flung up his wings, panic primed for flight.
…
"Nothing?!"
Silence pressed around him, thick with his own heartbeat.
He crept closer, each step heavy with urgent caution.
The moment he leaned nearer, the water formed another robin, rising from its surface—until he realized it was only his reflection.
Yet the image seemed too alive, its eyes staring back with a mind of their own.
"Who's this?" the robin asked; the reflection mirrored him. "If you don't reveal yourself—" he began, but something cut him off.
The mirror-image was too exact; each blink and twitch matched as if a second robin had been carved from the same breath.
"Does that belong to me?" the robin stared at his own grayish-brown wing in the reflection.
"Get it back to me!" his tiny brain couldn't process what had happened. He flapped his wings toward the reflection — a clumsy, angry bluff.
A single leaf dropped to the water, landing softly as the robin watched.
A small surface rode beneath the leaf.
"Oh…" the robin calmed, seeing the leaf drifting on the horizon.
"So… that's life," the robin kept staring, his wings beating with a lighter rhythm. His face revealed nothing, yet inside he carried a hidden smile; his tiny body relaxed, almost melting onto the grass.
A small chitter formed behind the robin, but he didn't turn. Several leaves dropped to the surface.
"I really don't understand… but… I can't complain." After a grateful pause, the robin spread his wings to leave.
"Time to explore!" he chirped, but the water betrayed him: a shape drew closer in the reflection.
The surface shuddered, ripples breaking the leaf's calm drift.
His heart raced; the reflection swelled larger until it burst into reality.
"!!!" A Leopard lunged above the robin, jaws gaping wide.