Deep in the moss and flowers, where the trees lean in close and wild roses weave through ancient roots, there stood a small cottage hidden from hurried eyes. Its round wooden door only opened for those the forest trusted, and the forest trusted Lila.
She was a gentle creature of leaf-soft footsteps and quiet hands, with pockets full of twine, feathers, and berries gathered on morning walks. She knew which mushrooms glowed after rain and which flowers closed their petals at dusk. The birds greeted her by name, and foxes lingered at the edge of the clearing without fear.
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