In a forest where the trees whispered secrets and the rivers hummed old songs, there lived a small silver fox named Aeris. Unlike other foxes who hunted at night and slept at dawn, Aeris had a strange hobby.
He collected sunsets.
Not in jars. Not in boxes.
But in his eyes.
Every evening, while the other animals returned to their dens, Aeris would climb the tallest hill in the forest. He would sit very still and watch the sky melt into colors—gold, pink, violet, crimson. And when the final ray of sunlight disappeared, he would blink slowly, as if saving it inside himself.
The other animals thought he was odd.
"Why waste time staring at the sky?" grumbled Bruno the bear.
"Sunsets don't fill your stomach," laughed Mira the monkey.
But Aeris only smiled.
One winter, something terrible happened. A thick gray fog rolled into the forest. Day after day, the sun disappeared behind endless clouds. The sky turned pale and lifeless. The flowers stopped blooming. The birds stopped singing. Even the river seemed tired.
Without sunlight, the forest began to lose its colors.
The red berries turned dull. The green leaves faded. The butterflies looked almost transparent. And worst of all—the animals lost hope.
"We'll never see the sun again," whispered Mira.
Bruno stared at the gray sky. "This is the end of our bright days."
But Aeris stood quietly on his hill.
He closed his eyes.
And remembered.
He remembered the golden glow of summer evenings. The fiery orange horizon. The soft purple twilight that wrapped the forest like a blanket.
Then something magical happened.
When Aeris opened his eyes, they were glowing.
Soft golden light spilled from them and touched the ground. The hill began to shine. The dull leaves regained their green. The berries blushed red again. The butterflies shimmered with color.
The animals stared in disbelief.
Aeris had not just watched the sunsets.
He had kept them alive inside his heart.
Each evening he had absorbed a little light, a little warmth, a little hope. And now, when the forest needed it most, he gave it back.
For seven days and seven nights, Aeris shared his stored sunsets. The fog slowly thinned. The sky began to clear. And on the eighth evening, the real sun broke through the clouds, brighter than ever.
The animals gathered around the fox.
"You saved us," said Bruno softly.
Aeris shook his head. "No. The sun saved us. I only remembered it."
From that day on, no one laughed at the fox who watched sunsets. And sometimes, when the sky turns gold and crimson, the animals sit beside him on the hill—collecting a little light for the future.
Because you never know when the world might need it.