Tucked beneath a patchwork blanket, Bernard the bear liked the quiet hours best. He’d sit with his paws folded, listening to the rain on the window or the soft breaths of someone fast asleep.
He didn’t wander far—he didn’t need to. His world was made of bedtime stories, gentle nightlights, and the promise of always being there. Some say Bernard remembers every dream ever whispered to him, holding them close in the quiet of the night.
