There was once a girl who wore a blue dress the exact color of a robin's egg, and a scruffy brown cat who believed he was a lion.
Every morning, the girl would stand in the meadow behind her cottage, close her eyes, and listen.
Not with her ears. With her wild soul.
One morning the meadow was golden. Butterflies stitched the air with yellow thread, and the sun poured down like honey.
"Shall we go today?" whispered the cat.
"Not yet," said the girl, holding him close. "I'm still gathering my courage."
The next night the same meadow was indigo. The moon was a thin yellow smile. Fireflies rose like small lanterns, and the stars blinked awake.
"Now?" asked the cat.
The girl smiled with her eyes still closed. "Now I have a little magic, too."
She had learned something the grown-ups had forgotten: courage isn't loud. It isn't a roar. Sometimes it's just standing still in a field, holding a cat who thinks he's a lion, and deciding, yes, you'll follow the tiny bright dream that tugs at your heart, even if you don't know where it leads.
So she stepped forward. The flowers opened for her. The moon lit her path. And the scruffy little lion-cat purred.
"We're finally on our way."
It takes courage. A little magic. And a wild soul to follow your dreams.
And she had all three.
-Poppy
9.9.26If you enjoyed this story. Below is a link to another whimsy story. 
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