Mira had climbed to the singing branch beside the split stone many times before. It was the place where the birds of Juniper Gate Thicket liked to perch and fill the narrow green path with bright little songs. Today, though, the branch was empty.
Mira stood on a pine cone with her blue scarf tucked close under her chin and looked up at the quiet spot. A blackbird hopped from one twig to another. A sparrow fluttered in, then stopped with a puzzled tilt of its head. Even the wind seemed careful here, brushing the juniper needles without making them jingle.
“That’s odd,” Mira whispered.
She listened harder. No trilling notes. No chirps. No answering whistles from the branches around the split stone. The silence did not stay in one place, either. It slipped along the root arch, across the dry creek bed, and into the bends of the thicket as if the whole forest was holding its breath.
Mira’s ears twitched. If the birds could not sing at their usual spot, the thicket might start feeling shut out and uneasy. She wanted to find out why this one place had gone quiet so she could help everyone feel safe again.
She leaned closer to the branch, but it gave her no answer at all. The birds only shifted their feet and looked from side to side. Mira could stay here and keep searching the silent branch, or she could hurry to ask Sela and Pip what they knew. Both choices tugged at her at once, and the quiet around the split stone waited for her to decide.
What happens next?
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