A tree stood alone on a hill in the village of Ruiga. It dated back in the days of the people's ancestors. Its back was rough like a time-worn stone. The villagers called it "The whispering tree" because they swore it spoke when wind blew.

In the village was a curious and brave girl called Mira. She often climbed the hill to sit by the tree. One evening wind blew and she heard a voice. "Vuuuum" it had spoken. It told stories of the past and warned her of the coming storm.

With curiosity, Mira returned each day. The tree whispered truths, questions and dreams. It told stories of the past and warned her of coming storms. "But who are you?" she asked. The tree stayed silent.

Seasons changed and Mira grew older. The tree was her closest friend. She shared her hopes, fears and laughter. One day it whispered, "Your heart listens better than your ears." Mira thought about this deeply.

One stormy night, lightning struck the hill. The tree caught fire. Mira run through the rain trying to save it but could do nothing only a blackened ash remained. The whispers were gone.

The village mourned quietly. Mira wept beside the tree as she sat where the tree stood, she felt something inside. Calm, clarity and strength, the tree's lessons hadn't died. They had taken root and sprouted in her soul.

Years passed, Mira became a storyteller. Children gathered to hear tales of the whispering tree. "Every wind carries a lesson." she said. One evening a girl asked " Did the tree really talk?" Mira smiled. It talks in feelings and silence.

Inspired by Mira's tales, the villagers begun planting trees across Ruiga. Each tree was a tribute. Whispering trees grew in gardens, schools and paths. The hill no longer stood alone, life had grown from ashes.

Mira now elderly returned to the hill one final time. A young tree had sprouted where the old one stood. The wind blew, she closed her eyes and smiled. "I hear you." She whispered back.

As Mira faded with time, her spirit lived on in the wind, trees and in the hearts of those who listened. The whispering tree had taught her well. The taled passed down through generations.