The Land Where Songbirds Sing

Epilogue

Family is not about blood.
It's about who's willing to
hold your hand when you need it the most
- Unknown

EPILOGUE
Paris Winters

Paris skipped towards her sister's, as of now, cabin. Peyton and Brooklyn slowly walked behind her, carrying many bags.
Paris laughed, she was an overpacker, but she couldn't leave any of her stuffed animals behind! They would feel lonely! So she brought three whole bags of them, and annoyed Peyton and Brooklyn in doing so.
Peyton had been adopted by her new family, luckily without trouble, a few months ago. They now are a big happy family, who love each other. Paris can tell Peyton likes her, even though she acts cold and heartless. Paris has almost a sixth sense; she can tell if someone's personality is fake, or if they're really something else. She has a weird skill of being able to tell the meaning behind what people say. And even if sometimes it's sad, or mad, or anything not good, Paris stays happy. She doesn't let what's going on in other people's lives be an excuse to not be happy, because happiness is a necessity in life. Especially in Paris' life. And she'd try to help people if they needed it, but never would she risk her mental health for someone else's. Because for Paris, her wellbeing is the most important. As long as she's happy, she can make other people happy, but she can't bother making others happy if she's not happy herself.
Paris raced back towards her sisters, with a massive smile on her face.
"Race you to the cabin!" she yelled excitedly, before jumping away from them.
"Not fair!" she heard Peyton groan behind her. "I can't run with all of your stuff!"
Paris erupted into giggles as she reached the cabin, and watched as Peyton and Brooklyn finally waddled up to the cabin.
They had a new routine, as Peyton was allowed to visit her cabin. She didn't own it yet; she would when she turned 18, but they granted her visitation rights. So now, they visited every weekend, and lived in the paradise of the woods.
Her sister, Brooklyn, was granted the reality of being able to live in the woods, as she did now for two-ish days a week.
And Peyton, was finally able to live in the city, and visit the woods. She was finally able to get the best of both worlds, which Paris had known she longed for ever since she first met Peyton.
"I won!" Paris squealed, laughing.
Peyton pretended to be mad, and jumped at Paris.
"Oh no you didn't!" she said, trying to sound mad, but she couldn't hide her giggles.
Peyton tickled Paris, and watched with a playful smile as she squirmed beneath her.
"Stop! Stop! You won!" Paris squealed with uncontrollable laughter.
"Shhh!" Brooklyn said sternly, and pointed towards something. "Look, it's a nightingale."
Paris looked up, and saw a small majestic brown bird with a creamy stomach. It was chirping loudly, and she watched as Brooklyn closed her eyes in happiness. The nightingale sang, and sang, and sang, letting everyone know it was there. The song was soft, and the most beautiful thing Paris had ever heard. The bird kept tweeting, calling, for something which Paris didn't know.
Suddenly, she heard the branches above the nightingale shiver, and a bushy red tail came into view.
"Look! A squirrel!" Paris squealed happily, causing a glare from Brooklyn.
The squirrel came down to the branch where the songbird was, and rubbed against the bird happily.
Paris was confused, surely the bird would be scared of the squirrel?
"That's the squirrel that climbed up on me," Peyton said quietly.
"Oh," Paris squeaked, "That makes sense why it's sweet!"
The bird seemed to look at the squirrel, and Paris swore she saw a look of love in its eyes. In the forest where no one, or thing, is separated from their differences. In a welcoming place full of love and hope.
"Why does everything here get along so well?" Brooklyn murmured to herself.
"Because it's the land where songbirds sing," Paris said. "The song brings everyone together, and makes reality seem like a great dream. Because, a nightingale doesn't care if you have fur, feathers, or scales. They make the most of everyone and everything, and accept whatever comes their way."
"Sounds a lot like you, Paris," Peyton said, and she watched as Brooklyn nodded in agreement.
A nightingale, Paris thought, smiling into nothing. I am a nightingale, a songbird, that makes the most of everything that happens, and cherishes it.

THE END