Harvest JollinThere is a season that does not arrive loudly.
It does not announce itself with storms or snow.
It comes quietly, like a breath between warmth and cold.
That season is Autumn.
And in its heart lives "Flowered".
Flowered is a small Harvest Jollin, born at the very edge of summer’s last bloom.
Not quite part of spring, not yet belonging to winter — but something in between.
A keeper of fading beauty.
His fur carries the colors of ripened fields and soft golden leaves, as if the world itself pressed a final kiss of sunlight onto him before letting go.
Flowered has a strange habit.
While other creatures celebrate spring when flowers bloom, Flowered watches carefully.
He does not celebrate their arrival.
He celebrates their existence.
Every morning, he walks through meadows and gardens, gently touching blossoms with his nose or paws, as if memorizing them.
To collect and to remember them.
The other Jollins call him the “Last Collector,” because he gathers what the world will soon forget.
One day, a young breeze spirit asked him:
"Why do you not let the flowers stay?"
Flowered paused, sitting among a field of summer blooms swaying in the wind.
"Because they already belong to change," he said softly.
"I only carry their memory a little further."
As autumn deepens, Flowered becomes more active.
He runs through gardens at dusk, collecting petals that are ready to fall, carrying them in invisible bundles made of wind and light.
Some say when the first frost arrives, he is the reason the world does not mourn too loudly.
Because wherever Flowered has passed, the flowers do not truly die.
They simply… become part of autumn’s memory.
And when the wind moves through dry leaves, it is said you can still hear him laughing softly somewhere between the fading colors.
As if he is already preparing to welcome spring again.
Story by me Kajin
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