In the heart of the forest, where no fire dared burn and no axe ever touched, lived a Bear whose paws knew every plant, every petal, every pulse of the Earth.
They called her The Flower Bear.
Not because she wore blossoms—
But because where she walked, flowers grew.
When an animal was sick, she would press her paw gently to the soil and hum a deep song.
Within moments, the right flower would bloom beside her.
Red for pain.
Blue for grief.
Yellow for fear.
White for truth.
She never spoke. She never demanded thanks.
Her healing came not from potions, but from presence.
One day, a young deer asked her,
“How do you know which flower holds which cure?”
Bear looked up and said,
“I do not choose the flowers.
I listen, and the Earth tells me what is needed.”
Since that day, when someone is broken in body or spirit, the Elders say:
“Lie where the flowers bloom most wildly.
Bear walked there once, and left her medicine in the roots.”
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