Oliver awoke in a patch of wildflowers, the cool moss beneath him cradling his slight frame. His tousled auburn hair shimmered with droplets, and his eyes—bright green as the ferns—were wide and full of wonder. The forest whispered secrets only he could hear, and as he sat up, he felt a strange warmth blooming deep within his belly.
From the shadows, a graceful figure emerged—Mother Willow, the forest spirit, her form woven from bark and blossom. She knelt before Oliver, her voice like wind in the reeds. "Dearest child, you have been chosen by nature herself. For nine moons, you will carry a miracle—life renewed, hope reborn. Trust in the forest, and in yourself." Oliver's heart pounded, fear and awe mingling as the magic settled in him.
Oliver[/@ch_1]'s silhouette grows rounder beneath his tunic.]
As weeks slipped by, Oliver's belly swelled with the promise of new life. He wandered the woods in wonder, hands resting on the gentle curve that grew each day. Curious animals watched him with bright eyes, and children from the nearby village whispered stories of the fairy boy with the blooming belly. Sometimes, at night, Oliver lay awake, uncertain and afraid of what was to come.
Oliver[/@ch_1] sits alone, hugging his knees.]
Oliver pressed his hands to his swollen belly, tears mingling with the rain on his cheeks. "Will I be strong enough? What if I fail the miracle inside me?" The wind moaned through the trees, but then a gentle glow appeared—Mother Willow, shimmering with comfort. "You are never alone, little one. The forest believes in you, as do I."
With each passing day, Oliver's courage grew. He sang lullabies to his belly and wove garlands for the unborn miracle. Villagers began to visit, bringing gifts and words of encouragement, their fears dissolving into wonder. Oliver realized that his journey was not just his own, but a story that belonged to the whole forest, to all who hoped and believed.
At last, the time arrived. Oliver stood in the center of the grove, surrounded by old friends and woodland creatures. Pain and joy mingled as the miracle he carried came into the world—a tiny child, radiant as moonlight, with eyes like fresh spring leaves. The forest cheered, and Oliver wept with relief and pride, his belly returning to its gentle, childlike roundness. Mother Willow smiled, her voice ringing through the glade: "You are the first Boy Who Expected, dear Oliver, and your courage will echo for generations."
