The mist drifted low, coating the mossy trunks and overflowing marshland. At the edge of the trunk, where the old oaks whispered secrets in the night, stood Marta, Igor and Lena. A pair of wolf's eyes glittered in the bushes, but the children knew that in this part of the forest the animals were asleep at this hour. The friends had been brought here by a rumour: someone had seen a light in an old hut where, as the grandmothers had told them, a whisperer supposedly lived, who knew the language of plants and animals. Marta had long wanted to meet real sorcerers, Igor dreamt of getting a rare plant for his herbarium, and Lena.... Lena said she was looking for adventures, although the air of the forest made her head spin. Each of them clenched a torch or a piece of bread in their hands, ready for what was to come. Suddenly, something squeaked softly on the steps leading up to the hut. Igor knelt down - he studied the mysterious paw prints in the mud for a long time. Surely they did not belong to any known animal. Marta lifted her head - shadows were moving in the higher parts of the trees. A quiet song came from inside the hut, as if sung by a voice not of this world. Lena took the first step towards the door. Suddenly, the silhouette of an old woman emerged from the gloom, her eyes shining with a light reflected by the moon. In one hand she held a strange branch, in the other something that resembled a clay bowl. "You have come even though you were warned," she spoke in a voice so quiet they could barely hear it. "But do you dare to go further in?" - she asked, pointing to the darkness beyond the door. Behind them, amidst the marshland, there was a drawn-out, strange laugh. The friends looked at each other - the decision was theirs....