The morning air felt more biting than normal, yet Leo hardly paid attention.
For two weeks, he had been dedicating himself to a hidden project — rising before dawn, sneaking into the garden, and carving quietly while everyone else in the house was asleep.
Inside the hollow log he was crafting, he placed each piece with gentle precision:
a small hedgehog he had sculpted himself, an owl created from leftover wood, pinecones he collected on walks in the forest, and soft moss he gathered during the last walk he took with his grandfather.
His grandfather loved owls.
“Wise creatures,” he would often say.
“And hedgehogs… brave little ones.”
