Why Water and Fire No Longer Hold Hands
Once upon a time, in a land where the trees whispered and rivers hummed, two unlikely friends danced through the days: Water and Fire.
Water was a gentle soul—bubbling with joy, brimming with kindness. He skipped across meadows, nourished the flowers, hugged the roots of ancient trees, and sang to the animals—especially to the Fish, who adored his cool embrace. Everyone in The Great Forest cherished Water.
Fire, on the other hand, was Water’s closest companion—his glowing counterpart. She radiated warmth, burned with passion, and brought light into the shadows. Though the forest creatures admired Water openly, Fire was viewed with suspicion. Her touch could scald, her breath could burn. But she never meant harm. Fire loved Water dearly, and Water returned her affection with a loyalty as deep as the lakes he swam in.
Together, they explored the hills, danced through fields, and ventured into the mysterious corners of the forest, always hand in hand. To Fire, Water was her entire world—and that was enough.
One radiant morning, while skipping alone through the woods, Water heard a familiar rumble.
“Water,” boomed a voice as deep as the earth itself. “Come here, child.”
It was Baum—the eldest, tallest, and wisest tree in The Great Forest. His bark was coarse like stone, his branches home to generations of birds, and his leaves had witnessed ages long forgotten.
Water rushed toward him. “Baum! Are you well?”
“I am weary,” Baum groaned. “My trunk aches, my roots are dry, and my leaves fall too soon.”
“I’m so sorry,” Water said. “Let me help.”
Bird, the forest’s beloved songstress, fluttered down from Baum’s tallest branch. With feathers like twilight and dawn, she greeted Water cheerfully and offered to sing.
Her voice was breathtaking—sweet, sad, and soaring. As she sang, animals gathered, enchanted by the sound. Even Baum chuckled, teasing her: “Show-off!”
“You love it,” Bird replied with a playful smirk.
Water laughed. But then, Baum’s tone turned somber again. “Water, you bring hope to this forest. Hope is what keeps the stars shining and the flowers blooming. Can you offer me some?”
Without hesitation, Water embraced Baum, wrapping himself around the old tree as best he could. Baum smiled. “My pain has eased. Thank you.”
Suddenly, more animals emerged: Tiger, Elephant, Mouse, Giraffe—all drawn by Bird’s song and Water’s presence.
The forest buzzed with joy.
Until Fire arrived.
In an instant, the cheerful crowd vanished. Fear rippled through the trees like a gust of cold wind. Bird flew high above and stopped singing. Even Baum turned quiet.
Fire didn’t seem to notice. She hugged Water tightly. “Ready for Mole’s cave? I heard it’s the darkest in the forest!”
Water nodded, but his heart was heavy. After Fire left to give them privacy, Baum spoke.
“Did you see how the animals reacted to her?” he asked gently.
“They’re afraid,” Water admitted. “But why?”
“Fire was not made for The Great Forest,” Baum said. “She brings light, yes—but not the kind the forest welcomes. You, Water, offer hope. She brings fear. You cannot hold hands anymore.”
“No!” Water cried. “If I can prove she brings hope too—will you let us stay together?”
Baum hesitated, then agreed. “Prove it by nightfall.”
Water and Fire continued toward Mole’s cave, the looming deadline like a storm cloud over Water’s head. Along the way, they encountered Bear, weeping over his lost honey. Water encouraged Fire to comfort him, hoping this would be her moment.
But Bear recoiled. Her warmth scared him off.
One by one, they met animals in need: Horse, heartbroken over her muddy mane. Monkey, stuck by his tangled tail. Snake, troubled by a shed gone wrong. Each time, Fire tried to help—but the animals fled, afraid of her flame. Only Water could comfort them.
Even Fire began to sense it.
As the sun dipped into the horizon, casting gold across the treetops, they reached Mole’s cave. A deep, hollow abyss. Pitch black.
“I don’t feel like exploring,” Water mumbled, defeated.
But Fire stopped him. “You’ve been strange all day. Tell me what’s going on.”
Water finally confessed the truth—that their friendship was on trial. That unless Fire could prove her worth, they’d never be allowed to be together again.
Fire looked at him, eyes soft but strong. “I know the forest fears me. And I know how important you are to them. If this is our last adventure, let it be a good one. Let’s make this memory ours.”
They stepped into the cave.
And for the first time, Fire lit up.
Her glow stretched far and wide—painting walls in warm gold and revealing crystals that shimmered in her light. Water stood in awe. In the heart of darkness, it was Fire who guided the way. She was light, warmth, and safety. In that moment, Water knew: Fire gave hope too.
When they exited the cave, Bird was waiting.
“It’s time,” she said gently.
Water hugged Fire one last time. “I’ll never forget you.”
“Now until the end of time,” Fire replied, her voice glowing like her flame.
And from that day onward, Water and Fire no longer held hands. But in their hearts, they always did.
Moral of the Story:
Sometimes, the world isn’t ready to understand those who are different. But just because others fear something doesn’t mean it lacks value. Fire had her own kind of light—and in the darkest places, her glow gave hope too.
