The afternoon sun casts a warm glow across the rocks, softening the edges of the day. Shadows stretch gently beside pools of light, and the lake shimmers with a calm, steady rhythm.

A small brood of ducklings scatters playfully over the stone shoreline—chattering, waddling, tumbling toward the water. They chase the breeze and each other, fearless in their tiny adventure. Each step forward is full of promise, a miniature leap into the unknown.

But one duckling lingers.
Tucked behind a smooth, sunlit rock, it watches. Not frightened—just thoughtful. Its downy head leans just far enough to glimpse the others, eyes wide with silent curiosity. It observes the splash, the laughter, the joy ahead—but for now, it waits.

There’s no rush.
From this sheltered place, the duckling takes in the scene: the glint of light on the water, the movement of its siblings, the pulse of a warm afternoon. Its moment will come, but for now, it watches—and wonders.

In stillness, a different kind of bravery takes shape. A quiet moment at the water’s edge becomes a story of curiosity, patience, and the slow unfolding of courage.