The Autumn Sprite

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Autumn never arrived suddenly in Mistroot Forest.

It began with one leaf.

Every year, when summer had grown tired, and the evenings started arriving a little earlier, a tiny sprite named Emberleaf climbed to the highest branch of the oldest oak.

She was barely taller than an acorn, with copper-coloured wings and a cloak stitched from fallen leaves.

In her hand she carried a little wooden brush.

Emberleaf dipped it into a drop of evening sunlight.

Then she painted the first leaf gold.

The next morning, a second leaf changed.

Then another.

Soon Emberleaf fluttered through Mistroot, brushing russet onto the oaks, amber onto the beeches, and deep crimson onto the maples.

But she never hurried.

“Every leaf deserves its summer,” she would say.

One afternoon, Emberleaf discovered a small green leaf trembling on the end of a branch.

All the surrounding leaves had already turned gold.

“I’m not ready,” whispered the leaf.

Emberleaf lowered her brush.

“Then you don’t have to be.”

She flew away.

Days passed.

The forest became a patchwork of gold, copper, and red. Acorns dropped into the moss. Mushrooms appeared beneath ancient trees, and the Whispering Stream carried fallen leaves gently beneath the Root Arch.

Still, one little leaf remained green.

Then, one cool morning, Emberleaf returned.

The leaf rustled happily.

“I think I’m ready now.”

Emberleaf smiled.

She dipped her brush into the sunrise and painted the little leaf the brightest gold in Mistroot.

That evening, a soft breeze moved through the forest.

The golden leaf released its branch and floated slowly down.

Emberleaf flew beside it all the way.

When it settled upon the moss, she tucked it gently amongst the others.

Because in Mistroot Forest, autumn was never about things ending.

It was simply the forest reminding everyone that there is a right time for letting go.