A sunbeam, penetrating a crack in the shutter, fell directly on Kaedan's face. He was the first to jump out of his creaking bed, his red hair sticking out in all directions like ruffled bird fluff.
"Get up!" His voice, still raspy with sleep, rang out in the cramped room like a command. "Today we're going to the Old Pine. Miss Elira said we could."
Ulvia, whose bed was by the window, immediately jumped up, her short chestnut hair needing no tidying. Energy seemed to radiate from her in waves.
"Hooray! I hope there will be new berries! The ones we found last time were so sour!"
Gil, already awake, was neatly folding her blanket. Her brown eyes were focused, as if she were solving a complex math problem.
"According to the calendar I've been keeping, the season for sweet red ones should be starting now. The probability of finding them at the foot of the Old Pine is very high," she remarked matter-of-factly.
Dur silently nodded, pulling on his worn jacket. His movements were calm and fluid, contrasting with Ulvia's liveliness.
Soon the children were standing under the colossal Old Pine. Its trunk was so wide that even all four of them together couldn't encircle it, and its branches, like the arms of an ancient titan, cast a huge, cool shadow on the ground. The air was thick and sweet with the scent of pine needles and damp earth.
"Alright," Kaedan planted his hands on his hips, surveying the area. "First task: find something edible. Whoever loses has to wash everyone's dishes today."
Ulvia, without waiting for a start, darted towards the forest edge. She didn't search—she seemed to instinctively know where to look. Her fingers found thick leaves of wild sorrel under a bush and a few unassuming but sweet roots.
"Look!" she exclaimed triumphantly, returning with handfuls of "treasure." "And over there, by that stump, the sweet red ones are already ripening! I told you!"
Meanwhile, Kaedan, choosing the sturdiest nearby tree, climbed onto a low, thick branch with an agility surprising for his solid build.
"I can see everything from up here!" he shouted down. "I see the path we came on, and the orphanage roof! And... I think over there, beyond that hill, there's smoke. Probably someone's house."
"Be careful!" Gil said sternly, not taking her eyes off the ground. She crouched down by an anthill, watching thousands of tiny creatures form complex chains. "Interesting... They're not just running. Look, Dur, the ones with prey follow the same path as the scouts, but they're let through. They have their own system of roads and rules. Just like people, only... more efficient."
Dur didn't climb trees or look for berries. He slowly approached the very roots of the Old Pine, which protruded from the ground like stone snakes, and sat down on one of them. He placed his palm on the rough, cracked bark. Here, in the shade of the giant, it was quiet and peaceful. He closed his eyes, and he perceived, not a sound, but a feeling—a low, barely perceptible hum emanating from the tree and from underground. A hum containing wisdom, sadness, and an incredible, unhurried strength. It didn't frighten him; instead, it gave him a feeling of security.
He looked at the stream merrily babbling twenty paces away. Water, even in such small amounts, always caused him vague anxiety. But today, under the protection of the Pine, that anxiety was muted, like an old, familiar noise.
"Hey, Dur! Idea!" Kaedan jumped down from the tree, ran to the stream, and tore off a large burdock leaf. He filled it with water and carefully, trying not to spill it, brought it to Dur. "Here. Touch it. It's just cold and wet, nothing scary about it."
Dur hesitated for a second, then slowly dipped his fingertips into the water. The cold made him flinch, but he didn't pull his hand away. He forced himself.
"See? Just water," Kaedan smiled.
"Thanks," Dur said quietly, wiping his hand on his pants.
They returned to the orphanage overflowing with impressions. Ulvia carried her "treasure"—the hem of her dress full of berries and roots. Gil mentally mapped the ant trails. Kaedan planned how to climb even higher next time. And Dur carried within him the quiet echo of the earth's hum and the memory of conquering a tiny part of his fear. They didn't yet know about Spirits and Magic, but life itself, wild and wise, was already beginning to teach them its first, most important lessons.