Mouseflower

Once upon a time, there was a married couple that loved each other very much. Or maybe it was a mother and her child. Or two best friends who had spent every waking moment together. The legends disagree on that. But they all agree that one of them died, and the other was overcome with grief.
 The one still living raged with anger and wept with grief and lay down with exhaustion, sure that there could be no more good in the world without their loved one.
 As they lay there, they saw a tiny mouse out of the corner of their eyes. Another, even tinier mouse lay dead before it. “The mouse,” thought the living person, “has lost a loved one just like I did.” But instead of mourning, this mouse ran off and found a strange flower, small and white and fluted. It put the flower into the tiny mouse corpse’s mouth and breathed into its snout and waited.
 Moments later, the dead mouse rose again, lively as you please and not dead a bit.
 Well. 
After that, the mother or husband or best friend (whoever it was) had quite a bit to think about, as you can imagine.
 But before their doubts could overcome their hope, they went into the grasslands, found another of the tiny fluted flowers, poked it into their loved one’s mouth, and breathed into their face. And waited.
 And wouldn’t you know? Not a moment later, up pops the loved one, lively as you please and not a bit dead.
The grieving one was overjoyed to have their loved one back. They embraced and cried with joy and were never parted again.