The Race

The whole meadow came to watch. The owl sat on a fence post and called out, “Ready… set… go!”

Whoosh! The hare shot off so fast that the dust swirled up behind him. The tortoise took one step. Then another. Then another.

By the time the hare reached the middle of the hill, he couldn’t see her at all. He stopped and looked back. The path was empty.

“She’s so far behind,” he chuckled. “I have plenty of time for a little nap.”

He stretched out under a shady tree, right beside the daisies. The breeze was warm. The bees hummed. Before long, the hare was snoring.

And the tortoise? She kept going. Step by step, never stopping, never rushing, never looking away from the oak tree at the top of the hill.