Submission (#1356) Approved
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The day had started out bright and clear—sunlight spilled in golden shafts across the glade, birdsong echoed between the trees, and the pond shimmered like a silver coin. It was supposed to be a good day.
But not every day goes as planned.
Yuki had been trying to practice her water magic all morning, trying to make little spirals of water dance above her head like Elder Fira had shown her. But every time she tried, it fizzled or splashed in the wrong direction. Once, it turned into soggy bubbles that clung to her horns like wet soap. Another time, she accidentally soaked a pile of freshly dried leaf-scrolls that Luma had been saving.
She was trying so hard. But the harder she tried, the more tangled her emotions became—until it all bubbled up into frustration. Her tail drooped. Her eyes stung.
By midafternoon, Yuki had wandered away, hiding among the ferny outcrops that led toward the edge of their small village.
She didn’t want anyone to see her cry.
The cove was quiet, the only sound being the soft lap of water and the occasional plip of a falling acorn. It was here, as she curled under a driftwood arch and sniffled softly, that her eye caught something unusual glinting beneath the surface.
Curious despite herself, Yuki tiptoed to the water’s edge and reached in.
Her paw brushed something smooth and round. She pulled it out—a perfect, glimmering pearl.
Then another.
And another.
Six in total, nestled together in the sand like they’d been waiting for her all along.
Each one shimmered faintly in the light, iridescent and soft. They weren’t just beautiful—they felt warm in her paw. Comforting. Familiar, even though she couldn’t explain why.
She sat there for a long while, clutching them gently to her chest, letting their calm seep into her like warm rain. Somehow, the weight of failure, of not being “good enough,” eased a little.
They reminded her of her mother’s voice humming in the morning. Of Luma’s tail curled protectively around her. Of Elder Fira’s gentle reminders that magic grows like moss—slow and sure.
With her pearls in her paw, the world didn’t feel quite so big.
That night, Yuki didn’t sleep right away. Instead, she sat in the cozy glow of the den’s fireflies and began threading a thin strand of water—just a ripple of Okwi magic—through the six pearls, binding them together.
It took her several tries. One pearl rolled away and got lost in a pile of moss for ten minutes. Another got stuck between her toes. But finally, after some trial and lots of determination, she knotted the strand and held it up.
Her first necklace.
It wasn’t fancy, but it was hers. Every pearl reminded her: you are learning. You are growing. You are still enough, even when things feel hard.
From that night on, the necklace never left her side. It dangled around her neck when she played, rested against her heart when she slept, and glowed faintly when she practiced her magic. In moments of doubt, she’d reach for it, roll the pearls gently between her paws, and breathe.
The pearls became more than just beautiful stones—they became anchors. A reminder that even on the hardest days, comfort can be found in the smallest, softest things.
But not every day goes as planned.
Yuki had been trying to practice her water magic all morning, trying to make little spirals of water dance above her head like Elder Fira had shown her. But every time she tried, it fizzled or splashed in the wrong direction. Once, it turned into soggy bubbles that clung to her horns like wet soap. Another time, she accidentally soaked a pile of freshly dried leaf-scrolls that Luma had been saving.
She was trying so hard. But the harder she tried, the more tangled her emotions became—until it all bubbled up into frustration. Her tail drooped. Her eyes stung.
By midafternoon, Yuki had wandered away, hiding among the ferny outcrops that led toward the edge of their small village.
She didn’t want anyone to see her cry.
The cove was quiet, the only sound being the soft lap of water and the occasional plip of a falling acorn. It was here, as she curled under a driftwood arch and sniffled softly, that her eye caught something unusual glinting beneath the surface.
Curious despite herself, Yuki tiptoed to the water’s edge and reached in.
Her paw brushed something smooth and round. She pulled it out—a perfect, glimmering pearl.
Then another.
And another.
Six in total, nestled together in the sand like they’d been waiting for her all along.
Each one shimmered faintly in the light, iridescent and soft. They weren’t just beautiful—they felt warm in her paw. Comforting. Familiar, even though she couldn’t explain why.
She sat there for a long while, clutching them gently to her chest, letting their calm seep into her like warm rain. Somehow, the weight of failure, of not being “good enough,” eased a little.
They reminded her of her mother’s voice humming in the morning. Of Luma’s tail curled protectively around her. Of Elder Fira’s gentle reminders that magic grows like moss—slow and sure.
With her pearls in her paw, the world didn’t feel quite so big.
That night, Yuki didn’t sleep right away. Instead, she sat in the cozy glow of the den’s fireflies and began threading a thin strand of water—just a ripple of Okwi magic—through the six pearls, binding them together.
It took her several tries. One pearl rolled away and got lost in a pile of moss for ten minutes. Another got stuck between her toes. But finally, after some trial and lots of determination, she knotted the strand and held it up.
Her first necklace.
It wasn’t fancy, but it was hers. Every pearl reminded her: you are learning. You are growing. You are still enough, even when things feel hard.
From that night on, the necklace never left her side. It dangled around her neck when she played, rested against her heart when she slept, and glowed faintly when she practiced her magic. In moments of doubt, she’d reach for it, roll the pearls gently between her paws, and breathe.
The pearls became more than just beautiful stones—they became anchors. A reminder that even on the hardest days, comfort can be found in the smallest, softest things.
Rewards
| Reward | Amount |
|---|---|
| ✨ Coins | 7 |
Characters
Mantibab-642: Yuki
No rewards set.