In the earliest days, when colors were still shy and the winds carried stories untold, there lived the Hummingbird of the Four Winds. It was said that this tiny spirit flew where sorrow hid, carrying not strength of claw nor roar of thunder, but the quiet gift of renewal.
One summer, drought came. Rivers thinned, leaves hung low, and even the songs of the forest grew silent. The great beasts argued, the trees whispered fear, and the sky refused to cry.
Only Hummingbird remained calm. It carried droplets — not many, but enough — in its small beak, flying tirelessly from bloom to bloom, sharing what little it could. The others laughed, calling it foolish.
But the flowers saw. They whispered softly to the clouds, and in their gratitude, the clouds returned with rain.
The forest lived again, not because of force, but because of the promise of the smallest heart that never gave up.
The elders now remind the young:
"Kindness, even in small measures, feeds the spirit of the world. Be as the hummingbird — gentle, steady, and unafraid to believe that small acts awaken great blessings."
