In my memory, I also had such a past:
I once avoided adults and walked for a day to find a legendary river, where I went to catch golden carp. . .
I used to walk along the creek where the bottom of the ditch was clear and visible, and walked on the mountain stream for a whole day. I saw a beehive that was bigger than a human head on the mountainside, and saw dozens of pheasants flying out of a mountain; frogs in the pool were discovering When in danger, they use their hind legs to stir up the pool water, and wild flowers in the mountain stream are in full bloom.
The nature I am close to is that beautiful fox. I'm sick of the fact that I used cliché melodrama to imagine the ending of a story. I thought the little girl would risk her own life to save her friend, the little fox, or that the beautiful fox distracted the grizzly bear, giving the little girl a chance to escape.
I don't want such a beautiful beginning to become a prop for revealing philosophy in the back. In the imagination, it should be a little girl who is looking for her own fox, looking at her own fox from a distance, it will be a different kind of beauty. However, the ending is a return to that happy beginning, with the fox still the fox, preying on the mountains in the distance in its most attractive pose. And the little girl will always cherish the lost beauty in her memory.
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