Mina lay under the tree, staring up at the bright orange sky. Over time she’d watched it transition from a bright blue to gold, then brown, and now this shock of orange as the sun sunk down further, into the ground to sleep for the night.

Around her the grasses waved their long arms in the breeze, dancing to a melody undetected by human ears.If she listened hard enough, she thought she could hear a tiny bit of it, a melodic tune. But maybe that was just the grasses scratching against each other, like the long strings of a violin.

Then she listened closer. The song sounded like a tune played by a wooden pipe, low at times, high at others, sounding always like the woods and the trees and the sky.

Sitting up, she looked around for the source of the music. She could hear it now, clearer than ever. It drew her in, beckoning, asking her to come, seek it out. She crouched low to the ground, and peeked out from behind the grasses. But she saw no one. She heard only the wind and that beautiful tune.