In the land of Astraladia, where dreams danced on moonbeams and stars whispered ancient secrets, a humble farm boy gazed at the night sky with wide-eyed wonder. A shooting star streaked across the heavens. The boy heard a faint, ethereal voice beckoning him to follow the star.

The sound of raindrops on dried leaves was everpresent. Others ran from the bus stop towards home, cursing, hands over their heads, in a futile attempt to not get wet by the sudden storm. I choose to enjoy it, embrace the cold drops on my face. I feel alive. Then thunder cracks.

It was a beautiful night; the moon was shining, and the stars were twinkling. In the cold waters we sailed, back and forth we went as the waves tossed us. All the sudden, the crew commanded by our leader seen upcoming gray clouds ahead. I then heard someone shout, "STORM AHEAD!"

After a few months, Crisp's cubs became healthier. However, the house we were staying in was getting crowded. "We need to find a new place," I told the woman. She shook her head. "It's too dangerous. The witch may be dead, but the hunters could still be out there."

Příběh, jež Vám budu nyní vyprávět se vskutku udál, jakkoliv se tomu nechce věřit.