They followed the river at an easy pace. The water stayed calm beside them, always moving but never in a hurry. Every now and then, a small fish darted close to the surface, making tiny ripples that quickly smoothed out again.

Fate watched the river closely. "It's quiet, but it's alive," they said.

"Yes," the Dreamer replied. "Even quiet things have their own stories."

They walked a little farther until the river widened into a shallow pool. The surface was so still here that the sky reflected perfectly, like a mirror laid on the ground. Fate stopped to look at the reflection—blue sky, soft clouds, and their own face looking back at them.

"It looks like another world," they whispered.

The Dreamer smiled gently. "Maybe it is. A world made of water and light."

Fate crouched at the edge and dipped their hand in again. Their reflection wavered, then settled. "It feels peaceful."

"Peace often hides in small places," the Dreamer said. "Like this."

They stayed there for a short while, just listening to the soft trickle of the river where it flowed out of the pool. A dragonfly zipped past, its wings catching the sun. Fate watched it disappear into the reeds.

After a moment, they stood. "Let's keep going. I want to see where the river leads."

"So do I," the Dreamer replied.

They walked beside the water again. The river curved gently around a bend, and the sound of flowing water grew a little louder. Ahead, the land dipped slightly, and they could see tall grass swaying on either side.

Fate looked around slowly. "It feels like the day is moving with us."

"It is," the Dreamer said. "Days like this don't need plans. They just unfold."

As they rounded the bend, they saw a small wooden bridge crossing the river. It was simple—just a few planks tied together—but it looked steady and well-used.

Fate stepped closer. "Someone built this."

"Yes," the Dreamer said. "Even quiet places have visitors now and then."

"Should we cross it?"

"If you want to see what's on the other side."

Fate hesitated for only a moment, then nodded. "Let's go."

They stepped onto the bridge together. The wood creaked softly under their feet but held firm. From the middle, they looked down at the water passing underneath—slow, clear, and steady.

On the other side, the grass was shorter and the land rose gently toward a small ridge.

Fate pointed ahead. "Let's see what's over that hill."

"Alright," the Dreamer said.

So they followed the river a little longer, then turned toward the ridge. Their steps stayed calm, steady, and unhurried—just two travelers letting the day guide them, walking toward whatever simple, gentle moment waited just out of sight.

They walked toward the small ridge, the ground rising gently under their feet. The sunlight warmed their backs, and the breeze stayed soft, carrying the faint sound of the river behind them.

Fate looked up at the slope. "It's not a big hill," they said.

"No," the Dreamer replied. "But even small hills can show you something new."

They climbed slowly, not rushing. The grass here was short and smooth, and their footsteps made almost no sound. Halfway up, Fate paused and looked back. They could still see the bridge, the pool, and the river winding quietly through the land.

"It looks peaceful from up here," Fate said.

"It looked peaceful down there too," the Dreamer said gently. "Sometimes peace just follows you."

Fate smiled a little and kept climbing.

When they reached the top of the ridge, they both stopped.

Beyond the hill, the land opened into a wide meadow. The grass was golden in the sunlight, and small clusters of wildflowers dotted the field—yellow, white, and pale blue. A few butterflies drifted lazily from flower to flower.

Fate's eyes widened softly. "It's beautiful."

"It is," the Dreamer said. "A quiet kind of beautiful."

They took a few steps forward, letting the colors and the warm breeze wash over them. Birds flew low across the meadow, their wings catching the light as they glided.

Fate took a slow breath. "It feels gentle here."

"Yes," the Dreamer replied. "Some places are made to feel gentle."

They walked down into the meadow. The flowers brushed lightly against their legs, and the soft buzzing of bees drifted through the warm air. Everything felt calm and alive.

Fate reached out and touched a pale-blue flower. It bent under their fingers, then stood straight again when they let go.

"It's delicate," Fate whispered.

"Delicate things are often stronger than they look," the Dreamer said.

They continued walking through the field, taking their time. There was no path, but they didn't need one. The meadow opened easily before them, welcoming them with its simple beauty.

After a little while, Fate looked ahead and pointed at a lone tree standing near the far edge of the meadow. Its branches spread wide, giving a patch of shade beneath it.

"That looks like a good place to rest," they said.

"It does," the Dreamer agreed.

So they made their way gently toward the tree, the meadow swaying around them, the day still quiet and kind—letting them go exactly at their own pace.

They reached the tree slowly, the grass parting softly around their steps. Up close, the tree looked even more welcoming—its trunk strong, its bark rough but steady, and its branches spreading wide like open arms.

Fate stepped into the shade first. "It feels cool here," they said, letting out a small breath.

"The tree shares its calm," the Dreamer replied, settling beside them.

They sat down on the soft grass. The ground felt warm where the sun had touched it, and cool where the shadow covered it. Overhead, the leaves moved gently, making a quiet rustling sound like a whispering lullaby.

Fate leaned back on their hands and looked up through the branches. "I like this spot."

"It suits you," the Dreamer said with a soft smile.

For a few minutes, they didn't talk. They didn't need to. The meadow spread out before them, golden and peaceful. A few butterflies drifted close, circling lazily before moving on. The breeze brushed over their skin, light and soft.

After a while, Fate spoke quietly. "It feels like the world is resting too."

"Maybe it is," the Dreamer said. "Days like this are gentle for a reason."

Fate picked up a small fallen leaf from the ground. It was dry but not brittle—light enough to lift with just a breath. They turned it over in their fingers, studying the tiny lines running through it.

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