The garden hummed with quiet life that morning: the soft rustle of leaves in the trees, the buzz of bees drifting between blossoms, and the delicate flutter of butterfly wings. Now and then, their wings caught sparks of light that shimmered among the flowers. The air smelled sweet with blooms and earthy with freshly cut grass. A small snail lingered on the sun-warmed stones, content in their gentle heat. The sisters paused at the cottage entrance, listening to the hush that seemed to settle beneath the sounds of the garden. It was the kind of hush that carried an unspoken promise that if they followed the winding path into the woods, an adventure would be waiting for them.