Truth Stays Forever
Honey For The Heart - 23
The morning sun filtered through the maple leaves, tracing golden flickers on the forest floor as Bumble adjusted his round bark-rimmed glasses.
“Do I look wiser with these?” he asked, peering into the stream.
Piggy, sprawled on a mossy rock, didn’t look up.
“Do you want the truth, or are you fishing for a compliment?”
“I don’t mind some flattery,” Bumble grinned.
And with that, the day rolled as it often did… Bumble handing out soft, squishy lies like berries.
“I love your stories,” he told Owl, though he hadn’t opened a single scroll.
“Hey, your new fur-trim looks edgy,” he told Hedgehog , though it seemed shaggier than before.
“I’ll deliver your pinecones tomorrow,” he promised Squirrel, knowing full well he had plans for a picnic the next day.
“They’re just fluffy fibs that make the forest feel warmer,” he laughed to Piggy, licking honey off his claws.
Piggy didn’t argue. He just nodded, watching Bumble dig into a honeycomb.
As the golden glow turned pink, the forest-folk prepared their carts to head home.
That’s when Bunny hopped past, lips sticky, nose twitching.
Piggy sniffed the air.
Bumble froze.
A very familiar tang was hanging there… honey-lemon pickle.
Only Bumble knew how to make it… a secret recipe handed down from his Grandbear.
He had left the jars outside to soak in the morning light.
“Did you take my pickle, Bunny?” he asked, stiffly.
Bunny’s ears jerked. “Me? Steal? That’s a serious paw-pointing, Bumble! Did you see me?” His voice was sharp, his eyes wide.
But when Bumble reached home… One, two, three… seven.
Only seven jars. Two gone.
His paws trembled as he pulled the jars inside.
Bunny had lied. Flat and bare.
Piggy helped him carry the jars in, not saying a word.
“A lie, Piggy,” Bumble whispered.
“A bold, blinking lie. He didn’t even flinch.”
Piggy nodded slowly.
“Now you know how it feels when someone veils their words.”
“A lie is a lie, Bumble- bare or wrapped in leaf.”
“I’m done lying,” Bumble said, voice low. “Not even the leafy ones.”
Piggy saw the spinach soup he’d brought over the previous day.
“You didn’t have it? Didn’t like it?”
Bumble grimaced. “Not really.”
Piggy smiled. “There it is. One clean truth.”
The next morning, Bumble walked through the woods with his chin high and heart set.
He told Robin her morning song gave him a headache, dodged Porcupine’s hug, and said Owl’s scroll was drier than desert sand.
By noon, half the forest had turned their tails to him.
Bumble sat, head hung low.
“Being honest… hurts.”
Piggy nodded.
“Because truth without grace becomes a thorn. And truth without courage stays buried.”
“It’s not about grunting the truth, but knowing how to let it land.”
Bumble blinked. “So truth needs… fur. Soft one?”
“Not always,” said Piggy. “Sometimes a padded tongue, but always a clean heart.”
That evening, they wandered back to the stream, glowing peachy under the evening sky. Bumble squinted at his reflection again.
“Do these glasses make me look… nerdy?”
Piggy looked at him for a long moment.
“A little nerdy,” he said. “A lot wiser.”
Bumble laughed out loud.
And as the sky turned purple, the breeze, in its folds, carried a tiny truth and pinned it with the stars.
