Molly slumped on her rock. She looked up at the birds flying by, singing and twittering to each other. Squirrels ran up and down the tree next to her. They chattered to each other. The tree even seemed to answer by rustling its leaves.

“Hello,” in a voice barely above a whisper Molly addressed her surroundings.

The birds kept on singing. The squirrels continued to chatter. The tree rustled contentedly. Molly sighed, but no one heard her. She felt very sorry for herself.

“That’s the story of my life,” she whimpered. “I talk but no one listens. It is almost like I am invisible. I sit here on the rock, unnoticed and unheard. Everyone treats me like I was just like a rock. Everyone else has important things to do. I am just Molly Moss, with nothing special to offer.”

A tear ran down the side of the rock narrowly missing an ant scrambling and struggling his way up the rock.

“Watch out!” he screamed, dodging the drop that almost washed him away.

Molly looked down, startled out of her doldrums. “Who are you?”

“Antibrose of the great Hill Antriban on the far side of this Forest of Danger at your service, my Lady,” panted the ant.

He pulled himself up over the last bump in the rock, shook all six legs and bowed to Molly. She almost smiled at his introduction.

“I am just plain, unimportant Molly Moss,” she replied sadly. “Why did you travel so far?”   ...