Nia was a young cartographer. She drew maps of the misty river valley. One morning, she walked to the old stone bridge. But the bridge was gone! The storm washed it away last night. Nia looked at the fast river and felt worried.
Nia went back to the village. She met a baker in a narrow alley. The baker was kind and gave her bread. "Yesterday, I saw a big storm," he said. "But you are brave, Nia." The baker told her about a virtue: patience. "Small steps still cross big rivers," he said. Nia smiled and felt hopeful.