In a moonlit meadow where bright stars twinkled, lived Nina, the gentle nightingale. As twilight brushed the sky with hues of gold and lavender, Nina perched on a blossoming bough of an apple tree and sang sweet melodies of love, peace, and the joys of nature. Each note she sang danced in harmony with the evening breeze, surrounded by silvery moonlight that touched everything tenderly.
“Listen to her!” whispered the little rabbit as he nestled into a tuft of grass.
“Isn’t it lovely?” answered Miriam, the bluebird, who sat upon a neighbour bough.
The whispering leaves swayed in tune, and even the flowers seemed to incline their heads as if in appreciation.
Suddenly, the harmonious atmosphere shattered as a dark cloud dashed across the sky, closely pursued by another. The wind grew stronger and the chill of impending rain pierced the air.
“Oh, an awful storm is coming!” exclaimed Nina, her notes fading into timid quavers.
“Fly to your nest, dear Nina!” twittered Miriam, fluttering by nearer to the tree.
“No, no, I cannot fly! I am afraid,” moaned Nina, as her heart grew heavy with terror.
Then came the storm, a furious attack of rain and wind that ripped leaves from the tree’s outspread arms and tore flowers from their moorings. Nina shrank down to the lowest bough, her tiny heart almost ceasing to beat.
“Save me! save me!” she cried, terrified and freezing.
But no one came to rescue Nina beneath the raging tempest. She seemed as if she might lose consciousness.
At last dawn appeared, but the storm still raged on, and Nina, white and still, lay on the cold, sodden grass beneath her tree.
“O Nina, dear, come back to life!” implored Miriam, as, followed by her all her friends of the forest, she peered down on where poor Nina lay.
“Nina, dear, open your eyes,” wept Constance the fawn, as she gently licked the little bird’s face with her soft, warm tongue.
“O little heart!” whispered a soft voice.
Nina opened her eyes. A kind fairy was bending near, with two tiny drops of dew from a lily flower which she held to Nina’s beak.
“Drink these, dear Nina, and speak to your friends.”
Nina drank and found her strength returning.
“My dear, dear friends! how can I ever repay you for your thoughtfulness?”
But even as she spoke her voice seemed again to fail her.
“Do not worry over that,” said the fairy kindly. “Only eat and recover. Your melody will again bring joy to every heart in the forest.” And then she vanished from sight.
All that day the creatures of the wood watched over Nina with the tenderest love, often travelling to distant places to bring her the daintiest morsels of food.
And love, love more than food, was with her always. Next day a pleasant warmth returned to Nina’s heart, and, oh wonder! her heart’s best treasure, her voice, had also returned.
Nina lost no time in proving it, for as she appreciated the warm violet light of the morning sun a low, soft note escaped her lips; louder and louder came the notes, as if she were testing her voice, and soon the whole forest was alive with melodious sounds.
“How lovely! How sweet!” shrilled the birds in the highest treetops.
“Such delicious music!” said the bees, nodding their little heads.
“Such happy melodies!” remarked the oldest tortoise, wagging his long neck and looking most contented.
That afternoon, as twilight again hovered over the meadow, Nina held sweetly-cadenced little converse with her companions, and all felt that the forest was again turned into the silent temple of joy and beauty of music.