It’s dark. Rain rolls and bounces through the forest canopy and chimes against the windows of their little hut.
They don their coat and hood, fill their pockets with pebbles, and trudge out into the wet.
As they walk, they whisper. Each whisper goes with a pebble: lodged in the roots of an old tree; dropped in a puddle, newly formed; buried in the dirt with muddy fingers.
Each pebble is a wish, and when lightning cracks the sky, they’ll know that one has been granted.
A microfiction for Mastodon! Even micro-er than usual. ^_^
Image by cpphotographies from Pixabay.