One Hundred Years...
There is a wall at the edge of an enchanted forest. It stands alert, though it is riddled with cracks. It is not much in itself, simply an old wall. But it represents so much more. It represents a whole.
On the day it falls, the forest creatures bear witness to the horror. The silence comes first; that is shock. Then, their keening wail is too filled with sadness for any passerby to listen long. It is heartbreak in a sound. Horror is it's bedfellow. Yet...
A small bird taps at the ruble.
Another drops a stone from it's beak.
A badger lays a brick with bare paws.
A fairy sets a gem to fill a crack.
Little happens that first day. Little happens the next. It was, after all, a very big wall. A year passes, and there is no more than a foundation. Another, and it's up two layers more.
One hundred years, and there is a wall. Another whole. As cracked and chaotic as the first.
It might fall again. It probably will.
But when it does, there will be a bird. A badger. A fairy.
It will all be well again.
You'll see.