Chapter One: The Quiet Child

  May Liraea was always the quiet one.

  She was the kind of child who preferred to listen more than speak, her thoughts turning inward as she wandered the world around her. While other kids chased after each other, shouting and laughing, May found comfort in the rustling of leaves, the songs of birds in the distance, and the steady hum of the wind through the trees.

  Even at six, when most children would be bouncing off the walls, May was content with her own company. She would spend hours in her backyard, laying on the soft grass, her small hands brushing against the blades as she stared up at the sky, watching the clouds shift and change. Her favorite days were the ones when the sun was gentle and the wind whispered through the branches.

  “May, don’t wander off too far,” her mother would call out from the kitchen window, her voice a soft reminder that the world beyond their yard was something to be cautious of.

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  “I’m just looking at the trees,” May would reply, a little smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Trees, to her, weren’t just plants—they were friends, strong and silent, always there, always listening.

  Her mother would sigh but say nothing more. She didn’t understand, but that was okay. May didn’t mind. She had the forest, and it had her.

  The neighbors would sometimes comment on how quiet May was, how much time she spent by herself. “She’s a dreamer, that one,” Mrs. Fernandez would say, shaking her head with a fond smile. “Always off in her own little world.”

  And it was true. May did have a world of her own, one where the rustling of leaves wasn’t just the wind—it was a conversation. A secret exchange of thoughts only she could understand.

  But no one else seemed to notice.

  It was easy for her to fade into the background. She didn’t mind. She liked it that way. She wasn’t lonely; she was just... content. Nature, her books, and her quiet moments were all she needed. The world was full of noise, but May had learned to find peace in the silence.