Crunch crunch. Clover the rabbit hopped along the dry, sandy trail, her paws leaving soft prints behind her. The sun painted the desert rocks in warm golds and reds.

She stopped beside a flat stone poking up from the ground. “Ohhh.” Clover’s eyes sparkled. “This looks like the perfect spot for a secret message.”

She gathered small stones, pebbles, and twigs, laying them out one by one. A circle here. A zigzag there. Soon she’d made a little picture: a sun with tiny rays stretching outward.

Fern the fox trotted up behind her. Tap tap. “What are you up to, Clover?”

“I’m telling a story with rocks,” Clover said proudly. “This is the sun shining on our trail.”

Fern smiled. “People long ago used rocks to tell stories too. Some are still on cliffs and caves today.”

Clover’s ears perked high. “Really? That means rocks can hold stories for a long, long time.” She paused, then gently put the pebbles back where she’d found them. “But our story can be one the desert remembers for just a little while.”

She traced a swirl in the sand with her paw. The wind brushed softly across the ground, whooosh, blurring her drawing. Clover giggled. “See? Art that comes and goes, just like the desert breeze.”