A Whisper of Reeds and Ripples

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A hushed breeze slipped across the marsh, stirring the reeds into a quiet song. In the shallows, the river dragon lifted its head from beneath the sparkling surface, golden eyes filled with unspoken curiosity. Tiny bubbles caught the morning sun, dancing around its snout like mischievous sprites as they drifted toward the open air.

High above, two griffins glided on broad wings, weaving lazy arcs between the reed stalks. Each flick of their tails scattered shimmering droplets from the hanging leaves, as if sprinkling enchanted dew upon the world below. Under the water, hidden realms teemed with color and light. Armored pike and golden crucian carp flickered through rippling beams of sunlight that pricked the muddy depths. A shy silver perch flitted near a sunken log, ever watchful of the gentle giant overhead.

From a mossy protrusion of rock, a water sprite leaned forward, its form all but invisible against the swirling currents. The sprite’s laughter sounded like the tinkle of distant wind chimes, barely a ripple in the hushed twilight of that underwater kingdom. Lilies bobbed gracefully in the gentle currents, their broad leaves a refuge for tiny creatures hoping to remain unseen.

Yet in that moment, everything felt at peace—every living thing aware of the others, moving in harmony beneath the soft veil of reeds and dusky sky. The river dragon blinked once, exhaling a contented sigh that ruffled the surface in a delicate wave. The marsh, ancient and humming with quiet magic, took a breath of its own in response. And so the day unfurled, carried onward by the whisper of reeds, the gentle stir of wings, and the tender watchfulness of a dragon at rest.