The sunlight bounced off the dancing current. Meanwhile the water gurgled and giggled its way downstream. Once in a while it would drop and splash, but it didn't mind. Beside the playful rapids a lone figure dashed to keep up. Its small bare feet pitter-pattered on the soft, warm grass. Small young squeals erupted from his mouth as his eyes followed the birds flying high above.
His blonde hair bounced as the boy scrambled up the bark of a nearby tree. He raced up the branches, as high as he possibly could go. When at last the boy poked his head through the trees the birds had become mere dots on the horizon.
Yet, the breeze wafted a familiar smell that caught his attention. He could smell the woodstove cooking dinner. In the distance, across a cornfield, the boy could see his home, with his mother waiting at the door. His adventures would have to wait for another day, it was dinner time.
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