The Forgotten Promise
Once upon a time In the rustling embrace of Oakshade Forest lived two inseparable squirrels: Nip and Lina.
Since they were kits, they had spent countless evenings giggling about cute squirrels from neighboring trees and dreaming of the Great Leap—a wild adventure beyond the grove, just the two of them.
They called it “The Day of the Leap.”
For months, they’d planned every detail: which trees to glide from, what trails to take, how far they’d scurry. It was their big adventure, discussed endlessly between conversations about which squirrels had the fluffiest tails.
But in the final weeks, Nip had something new to chatter about—Stripe!
“He’s just so clever, Lina!” Nip would gush. “And did you see the way he jumped across the hedge yesterday?”
Lina would smile and nod, gently trying to steer their talks back to their upcoming adventure… while Nip’s thoughts leapt elsewhere.
On the morning of the Leap, Lina had risen before dawn, her tiny paws trembling with anticipation and nervous joy. This was it. Their day. Their promise becoming reality.
Lina waited by the Hollow Stump.
Lina waited through the sun’s climb,
Lina waited as bluejays called and the shadows stretched,
Lina waited while the moon greeted the stars.
Lina had waited enough.
Then, from high in the canopy, she saw them—Nip and Stripe, chasing each other along the branches, tangled in laughter, completely absorbed in each other’s company.
Nip had completely forgotten.
The next morning, Nip was there when Lina emerged from her nest.
“Lina! I’m so, so sorry!” Nip scrambled up breathlessly. “I got caught up with Stripe and lost track of time. But we can still go today!”
“Just… don’t,” Lina said quietly.
“But I really am sorry! I made a mistake, but we can still have our adventure!”
Lina finally turned, her eyes clouded with hurt. “It’s not about the adventure, Nip.”
And with that, she bounded away, leaving Nip stunned behind.
For days, Lina kept to the quietest parts of the forest, far from their usual trees. Each time Nip tried to come close, she would dart away, her heart heavy with disappointment.
One day, while curled beneath a tangle of roots, Lina heard a gentle voice.
“Stormy branches today, young one?”
She looked up to see Gramble, the ancient badger who had watched over Oakshade for longer than anyone could remember.
“She forgot me,” Lina said simply. “My best friend forgot our most important day.”
“Ah,” Gramble said, settling beside her. “But did she forget you, or did she forget a plan?”
“What’s the difference?”
“Tell me, little squirrel—is Nip the most important squirrel to you?”
“Yes,” Lina answered without hesitation.
“Then shouldn’t you be glad she’s found someone who makes him laugh?”
Lina’s tail twitched with frustration. “But what about me? What about our friendship?”
“Is it so delicate that one forgotten leap could break it? You set a trap for her, young one—the trap of your expectations. Instead of rejoicing in her joy, you wanted her to put you above it.”
“But it hurt…”
“Of course it did. But ask yourself: do you want to be right, or do you want to be friends? Do you want to punish her for being imperfect, or celebrate that she’s alive, learning, and loving?”
“I just… wanted to feel like I mattered to her,” Lina whispered.
“And do you not? One forgotten morning erases seasons of play, laughter, and love? If the Leap matters, take it tomorrow. But if what matters is being the only thing in someone’s world… that’s a heavy burden to place on a friend.”
Lina curled her tail around herself and let the badger’s words settle. She thought of the times Nip had stood by her, protected her, made her laugh until her cheeks hurt. And she thought of how bright Nip’s eyes had shone when talking about Stripe.
That evening, Lina found Nip sitting alone on the Great Branch where they always met.
“I’m sorry,” Lina said softly. “Not just for running off, but for expecting you to be perfect. For needing you to put me first, even when your heart was somewhere else.”
Nip’s eyes glistened. “I should’ve remembered—”
“You should’ve been exactly who you are,” Lina interrupted gently. “A young squirrel excited about someone new. I should’ve been happy for you, not hurt by you.”
They sat together in quiet understanding, the wind rustling above them.
After a moment, Nip nudged her gently. “So… about that Leap?”
Lina smiled—really smiled—for the first time in days. “Tomorrow’s breeze looks just right. And this time, I want to hear everything about Stripe on the way.”
The forest doesn’t rewind. But it remembers.
And so do friends who learn that love isn’t about being first—it’s about making space for each other’s joy.