Darkness.
Endless darkness.
Dreams were monotonous. Many things recorded in books had only their appearances painted, without any scent.
Thus, in Little You's dreams, there was often a blade of grass.
Every time, Little You wanted to crawl closer and smell the grass, but the more she yearned for something, the farther away it seemed.
The books said that scent was very fresh.
But Little You had no concept of "fresh."
She had once asked many companions, "What exactly does 'fresh' feel like?"
No one could answer that question.
That day, Little You dreamed of the grass again.
She widened her eyes and used every ounce of strength to crawl forward, wanting to pluck that blade of grass.
"Don't run, don't run."
She reached out and clawed at it. Just as she was about to grasp the grass, the world before her suddenly began to twist, and the grass vanished again.
"So annoying."
Little You wanted to cry a little.
The dream never woke, one after another.
Only this time, the world twisted particularly fiercely. Light and shadow shifted before her eyes, and it seemed as though a familiar voice was calling to her.
"Little You, wake up, hurry and wake up!"
Little You was somewhat dazed.
"It's Mother's voice!"
She finally remembered.
This dream had been too long, so long that she could not immediately recognize even her favorite voice.
She was thrilled beyond measure.
"Mother said that on the day she woke me up, I would be able to see grass!"
Boundless excitement surged within her heart. Amid the twisting, the world before her suddenly reassembled!
Little You finally saw clearly.
A snow-skinned woman smiled as she lifted her from a snow-white "cocoon."
"Mother, I missed you so much!"
Little You nestled into that familiar embrace and hugged