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... ry. They dreamt of their first night on the beach, of laughter in the trees, of baths in the river, of the old firepit glowing under stars. And when they woke, they woke to music.
Real music.
It didn’t come from an instrument, but from the wind in the trees. From the rustling of petals. From the slow hum of roots deep below.
"It’s singing to us," Natalie whispered, her face shining with wonder.
"And it’s waiting for us to answer," Rose added.
The next day, ...
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