Under the shade of the big mulberry tree in Grandma��s orchard, Uncle Augustine used to tell stories to the village children. That tree was special, for its fruits were the sweetest and its leaves rustled in the wind as if they held ancient secrets. But one day, something strange began to happen.

The leaves of the tree began to wither for no apparent reason, the mulberries stopped ripening, and the Chicago Air Motor windmill spun with difficulty, as if the wind itself had lost its strength.

“Something’s not right,” said Uncle Augustine, scratching his beard in concern. “This tree has weathered many storms, but I’ve never seen it like this.”

That same afternoon, a man in an elegant suit and an air of superiority arrived at the orchard. It was Don Ramiro, a businessman who planned to buy the land to build a factory.

“This orchard is already old, Don Augustine. I could pay you well and use this space for something more… modern,” he said with a sly smile.

“This orchard is not for sale,” Uncle Augustine replied firmly. “I grew up here, generations of children have played here, and this tree is part of all of our history.”

But Don Ramiro would not go away so easily. A few days later, Uncle Augustine discovered that someone had dug ditches around the mulberry tree, damaging its roots. Apparently, they were planning to weaken it so that it would dry out and be easier to cut down.

The village children, Luis, Carlos, Ana, and Marisol decided to help. Together with the orchard animals—a cunning fox named Bruno, a wise owl named Violeta, and a strong badger named Benito—they set out to save the tree.

That night, when the moon was high, the wind blew with a different whisper. The mulberry tree began to glow with a faint light, and from among its roots, a magical figure emerged:

It was Morath, the Guardian of the Mulberries.

His body seemed to be made of intertwined branches and roots, with glowing leaves and golden eyes like the dawn sun. His voice was deep and echoed like the creaking of trees in the forest.

“The tree is in danger. If its roots die, the history of this orchard will disappear forever,” Morath said. “But there is still hope.”

Uncle Augustine took off his hat, marveling.

“How can we help you, friend?”

“We must restore the damaged roots before dawn. We need pure water, fertile soil, and a commitment to protect this place.”

With the help of the children and the animals, they began to work immediately.

Luis and Carlos carefully dug around the damaged roots.
Ana and Marisol brought water from the well to nourish the soil.
Bruno the fox kept watch that no one came close to interrupt.
Violeta the owl flew over the area to make sure that Don Ramiro did not send his men.
Benito the badger turned the soil and helped cover the roots with fresh compost.
As they worked, Morath stretched out his arms and murmured words in an ancient language. The tree began to shine brighter and, little by little, its leaves regained their vibrant green color.

But just when everything seemed to be working out, Don Ramiro’s men arrived with tools to cut down the tree.

«Stop!» shouted Uncle Augustine. «This orchard is life, it is history, and we will not allow it to be destroyed!»

The children and animals stood in the way. And then, Morath raised his arms and the wind began to blow hard.

The branches of the tree shook and a whirlwind of leaves and blackberries covered the intruders, causing them to run away in fear. Don Ramiro, seeing that nature itself protected the orchard, understood that he could never overcome the will of those who cared for it.

«It’s okay, it’s okay!» I don’t want any trouble… I’ll leave.

When the danger passed, Morath smiled and whispered:

—The tree will continue to grow as long as there are those who love and protect it.

With a final gust of wind, his body vanished into the air, turning into leaves that floated to rest on the branches of the tree.

Uncle Augustine adjusted his hat and smiled at the children.

—Today you have learned a great lesson. Sometimes, the most valuable thing is not what can be bought with money, but what is defended with the heart.

From that day on, the mulberry tree continued to bloom and bear its sweet fruits, and the children of the town knew that, deep within its roots, the Guardian of the Mulberries would always be watching over it.

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