The Story of Tea Beneath The Stars
Fox was often mistaken for a quiet soul. To the other woodland neighbors, he appeared calm, reserved, perhaps even a little aloof. But inside him lived a roaring storm: thoughts stacked on thoughts, worries about tomorrow tangled with memories of yesterday. Even when he tried not to think, he found himself thinking about not thinking, spinning himself into tighter knots.
Over time, Fox drifted so deeply into his mind that the world around him faded. He no longer heard the birds greet the morning or felt the warm ribbons of sunlight slipping through the trees. Even flavors dulled. Life had grown muted, and Fox knew something had to change. He longed desperately for quiet.
So one evening, he made himself a cup of tea, just as the first stars pricked the sky. He listened to the soft bubbling of the kettle, breathed in the fragrant steam, and let those small comforts settle his heart. He slipped on his favorite sweater, savoring the gentle brush of the knit beneath his fingertips. He wrapped a quilt around his shoulders, left his burrow-home, and walked toward the whispering pines.
There, beneath a towering pine, he spread the quilt across the forest floor and settled onto it. He lifted his gaze.
Above him, the night sky unfurled: vast, shimmering, impossibly calm. The crescent moon glowed like a lantern, and the stars shimmered in gentle clusters, as if inviting him to breathe with them.
Fox felt the noise inside him soften. Then quiet. Truly quiet.
A small smile crept across his face as he took a slow sip of tea, the warmth grounding him in the present moment. Just then, a shooting star swept across the heavens, leaving behind a silver trail.
For the first time in a long while, Fox simply was—peaceful, present, and held by the night.