“Why don’t you build yourself a tree house here,” suggested the Raven. “It would give you your own roots, and it’s a way of life I am sure you would enjoy.”

“Well, it does seem like a grand idea, but I must think it over,” Tumble replied uncertainly. “I would have to find just the exact spot for it, of course. With sunbeams.”

“Of course,” replied the Raven.

It is difficult to say how long Tumble remained with the Raven in that forest. Life there seemed only a matter of eating and sleeping and waking up to endless days of wondrous beauty. Tumble wanted to stay. It was a timeless world where each enjoyed the company of the other.



One day the Old Raven taught Tumble how to climb the tall tree in which he lived. Tumble felt the cool bark beneath his hands as he pulled himself ever higher into the great giant (which, of course, to the Raven was only of “ordinary” size.) When they reached his nest, the Old Raven explained, “As is the case with my kin, just because someone has wings doesn’t always mean that they will use them to fly or aim higher. Lifting yourself up is always a choice.”

Then he proudly held out a small, shiny object. “Here is my wishing stone,” he said as he presented to Tumble his most cherished belonging in the entire world.

“Look into it,” he added, anxiously awaiting Tumble’s response. The fact that it was his single most important possession made the giving of it a great and momentous event.

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