Once upon a time, in a land that had long ago been under the rule of the Great King, three friends—Rock, Cedar, and Oak Tree—shared the top of a high, wind-swept hill.
Now, Rock was actually a boulder, a great, round, old, flatish thing that lay contentedly between his two friends. Rock couldn't imagine a day in which life might be different and didn't try to, for no matter the wind, rain, cold, or heat, Rock never budged, not an inch.
Cedar was also old, but in a tree kind of old (even the oldest tree, you'll recall, is younger by far than any rock). He was thin and sparse—branchless actually—but taller than any tree in the valley. Cedar chose to spend his days looking as far as he could in all directions for the storm that was bound to come and blow him over once and for all.
And like his friends, Oak Tree was old as well, so old in fact that he no longer came into leaf in the spring or dropped acorns in fall, nor could he even remember doing so, those things being so far behind. But unlike Rock who never imagined that these days would ever change, and unlike Cedar who was sure that the next storm would be his last, Oak Tree was not afraid to dream...
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