Mieris looked back at the darkening woods. "The Sacīkšu sacīkstes isn't won by the one who moves the fastest," he whispered, "but by the one who moves with the forest, not against it."
As the race progressed, the forest tested them. Zibens reached the River of Sighs first, but his speed was useless against the rushing water; he paced the bank, frustrated. Vēja tried to fly over, but the misty spray of the falls weighed down her feathers, forcing her to land and wait for the sun. SacД«kЕЎu sacД«kstes
Hours later, Mieris arrived. He didn’t try to jump or fly. Instead, he found a fallen birch log and waited for the current to shift. Using his quills to anchor himself to the wood, he floated across, calm as a stone. Mieris looked back at the darkening woods
The race began at the Great Oak. At the sound of a falling acorn, Zibens disappeared in a blur of fur and dust. Vēja soared, her screech echoing through the valley. Mieris, however, stayed behind for a moment, sniffing the air and tightening his quills. Vēja tried to fly over, but the misty
"How?" Zibens panted. "I am the fastest!""And I am the highest!" Vēja added.