The forest was unusually quiet the morning the rainbow appeared—quiet in the way that feels like the world is holding its breath. High in the bending arms of an old willow sat T-emper, a small creature with shimmering fur and eyes that reflected whatever color the sky held. Today, those eyes were streaked with glistening trails of violet and blue—rainbow tears, the kind that only appeared when a heart was breaking in more than one way at once.
T-emper’s mother, Libby, had left before dawn. No note, no explanation, not even one of her soft forehead nuzzles that usually meant I’ll be back soon. All that remained was the rustle of leaves and the fading warmth of the nest they once shared, woven from gold-thread moss and strands of Libby’s own pearly fur.
No one in the forest quite understood Libby. She was a wanderer, always chasing winds that whispered of elsewhere. T-emper knew this better than anyone—Libby’s stories were stitched with longing, her lullabies full of places she had never seen but dreamed of as though they were old friends. Still, T-emper had believed she would never leave here, never leave them.
Now, perched alone on the willow’s crook, T-emper clung to the bark, letting the tears fall freely. Each droplet hit the ground with a soft chime, blooming briefly into tiny splashes of color before fading into the earth. The forest creatures gathered nearby—squirrels, finches, even the shy moss-hopper—keeping a respectful distance. They watched, not with pity, but with a quiet kind of love. Rainbow tears were rare, and whenever they appeared, they signaled a moment that mattered.
As the sun climbed higher, a breeze brushed past, carrying with it something familiar: Libby’s scent. Not strong, not close, but real. It curled around T-emper like a fragile ribbon. The tears slowed. T-emper lifted their face toward the wind, letting hope prick through the sadness.
Maybe Libby hadn’t abandoned them. Maybe she had gone searching for a safer place, a brighter grove, a future worth bringing T-emper into. Or maybe she was lost, wishing just as hard to return.
T-emper wiped the last streak of color from their cheek and climbed a little higher into the tree, where the branches swayed gently as if promising protection.
“I’ll wait,” T-emper whispered to the wind, voice small but steady.
And for the first time that morning, the rainbow began to fade.
