Byop. Room for a few small swag.
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Long ago, before the woods grew thick and the road beyond the hill was paved, there lived a small creature named Tareth. No one knew where he came from — some said he was born from a fallen star, others whispered he had wandered out of a dream. Whatever the truth, there was something different about him.
When Tareth was young, he discovered that wherever he rested, the grass grew greener. Wilted flowers would lift their heads, and wounded birds would find their wings again. Even the chill of a sick child’s hand seemed to fade when he crawled near.
Word spread quietly among the townsfolk, and though they never spoke his name too loudly, those who truly needed him always seemed to find their way to the edge of the woods. There, behind what would one day become a place of healing, he built himself a home — a hollow of metal and leaves, where the sound of rain on rust became his lullaby.
When Tareth grew old, he did not disappear. He simply stayed. Now, some say on quiet days when the wind rustles through the leaves, you can still find the little copper creature resting there. Children who wander too close sometimes swear they feel lighter — as if a small, steady warmth has touched their hearts.
So if you find him, don’t be afraid to reach out. He still remembers what it means to help, and sometimes, that’s all the magic you need