The moss fairies hid behind the castle, waiting for the goblins to pass by. As soon as they did, the fairies leaped from their hiding place and stole the pots and kettle the goblins wore on their heads as helmets. The goblin chased them all over the forest, until twilight fell and they all made friends again, returning the pots and kettle and sharing their dinners before scurrying off to their homes for a sleep, ready to begin again tomorrow.
He did his best to resist the urge to shake off the droplets by twirling his needles back and forth. His crush had told him he loved nothing more than raindrops on a spring day, so he collected the drops with care and remained as still as he could, hoping to present them to his love in exchange for a kiss.
Troll tears slid down the gnarled and blackened roots of the decaying old tree. No one expected a nasty old troll to have feelings, but he did, and they were hurt.
The cat surveyed his kingdom. He was on edge. He had overheard his humans talking about March “going out like a lion” because it had “come in like a lamb”. He had no idea what a March was, but he was the only lion allowed in this kingdom.
The autumn shades of forgotten vegetation waited in the shadows while spring worked at turning the world green again. They felt uncertain of their place in the world.
Then a mouse scurried beneath them, happy for the safety of the roof they offered, and they began to understand.