Lurchi and Waldemar in the Garden of Voices

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The sun slanted over the treetops, and the light refracted into a thousand sparkling shards on the leaves of the Garden of Voices. Here grew plants that whispered as soon as the wind touched them, and butterflies fluttered through the air like floating notes. With firm steps, Lurchi, the salamander, trudged through the tall grass. His yellow boots glistened with the morning dew, and every time he set foot, the earth made a soft, rich crunch. "A fine day to meet someone," he murmured, reaching out to let an orange butterfly land on his finger. The butterfly fluttered briefly, then settled and remained like a tiny jewel. But Lurchi didn't stay alone for long. There was a rustling among the ferns and fuchsias, and a quiet, steady footstep approached. Then Waldemar stepped forward, the raccoon with the red hat, sturdy boots, and large backpack almost as wide as he was. His button eyes sparkled friendly, his bushy tail bobbed in time with his footsteps, and the sunlight made his striped markings flare golden. "Oh! Who do we have here?" Waldemar cried happily, raising his paw in greeting. "A salamander with boots! That's certainly not an everyday sight." Lurchi grinned broadly, his yellow markings shimmering in the sunlight. "And a raccoon with a hat and backpack is just as new to me. Where are you off to, my friend?" "I collect stories and herbs on my travels," Waldemar explained, patting his backpack, which clinked mysteriously upon impact. His tail whipped merrily through the air. "And you?" "I'm looking for adventure," Lurchi replied, "and places where I can dance when it rains." They both laughed, and it was as if the garden absorbed their voices: the leaves whispered back, and the flowers bowed in time. Together they strolled deeper into the green wilderness, where the paths wound between brambles and lianas. Soon they reached a small clearing in the middle of which stood an old well, overgrown with moss and colorful blossoms. From within the well came a faint humming, like a choir of invisible voices. Waldemar tilted his head, his tail curling in anticipation. "The Garden of Voices," he said reverently. "It is said that whoever listens here hears not only the whispering of the plants, but also the voices that dwell in their own heart." Curious, Lurchi leaned over the edge of the well. The humming died down, and a gentle voice sounded, so clear that even the butterflies paused: "Welcome, wanderers. What are you seeking?" Waldemar and Lurchi looked at each other. Finally, Lurchi answered: "We are not looking for treasures of gold.