Grandma Malina's house stood at the very end of the street, right next to the orchard. The yellow walls glistened in the sunshine and the blue shutters looked like smiling eyes. When the wind blew, the apples swayed on the branches and the bells by the door sounded: dzyń, dzyń. That evening, the air smelled of cinnamon and jam. Grandma stirred in the big pot, and Lila and Olek sat at the table and counted the bubbles in the jam. Chamomile the cat, red and fluffy, was stretching under a chair and purring as loudly as if he were playing a little cat harmony. Suddenly, the kitchen light flicked on. Once, a second, a third. A tiny glow flashed across the ceiling, like a skylight, and disappeared into the doorway leading to the attic. "Oho," smiled Grandma Malina. "I think it's time to bring down the quilts. Will you do that for me?" Lila nodded. Olek did too, although he would have preferred to stay close to the pot. Chamomile followed them, softly tapping his paws on the stairs. The door to the attic was of dark wood and creaked as Lila pressed the handle. The narrow staircase smelled of dust and old lavender. At the top hung a light bulb on a string. Lila pulled the string. The light shimmered, as if trembling with laughter, and spilled across the attic. There were boxes and trunks, hats in cardboard boxes, a porcelain elephant without a trunk, a wooden rocking horse and a mirror covered with a white shawl. A cool gust came through a small window and stirred the dust. Everything swirled for a moment like tiny clouds. "We'll quickly find the quilts and get back to the jam," whispered Olek to give himself courage. Lila was already about to look into the big wicker basket when something touched her hand. It was a feather. Silver, long and so light that it looked as if it had been drawn in the air. It wasn't lying down. It floated a millimetre above the board and shimmered with tiny sparks. "See?" Lila let out a quiet laugh, more surprised than amused. Chamomile scrunched up her nose and made a "mrrau?" like question. The feather moved. Once. The second. As if it was pointing in a direction. It glided slowly over the floor, not touching the boards, leaving behind a thin luminous trail that disappeared as quickly as it appeared. "I think he wants us to follow him," whispered Olek. He took a small torch from the wall that hung by the door. Click. The light formed a warm cone. The feather sailed between the boxes, past the rocking horse and stopped over an old trunk with brass corners. The trunk was heavy, tied with a maroon ribbon. Someone had once stuck a balloon sticker on the lid. "Do you hear?" Lila leaned over. From inside the trunk came a quiet: "knock, knock". Very soft, like a drop of water asking for attention. "Knock, knock." Chamomile teased his tail. His ears twitched. He tiptoed up and sniffed the ribbon, then took a step back and sat down, watching intently. "Maybe it's something dropped inside," Olek said, but it sounded like he preferred it to be something really ordinary. The feather hovered over the lock and circled once, then perched on Lili's hand, soft as a cloud. The girl bit her lip and looked around. The attic was quiet. Only a clock without batteries stood on a shelf and pretended to tick. "Shall we open it?" she asked. "Slowly," replied Olek. He stood aside and illuminated the trunk with a torch. The light trembled on the ribbon. Lila grabbed the end. The maroon ribbon was smooth and cool. It clenched tightly, as if she was afraid something would pop out, or maybe... that something would escape. The girl pulled. The ribbon moved a little. "Knock, knock," - sounded again, this time a little closer. "Do you hear, Chamomile?" Olek leaned towards the cat. The cat didn't flinch. The ribbon gave up and slid down, rustling. A very narrow ray flashed through the tiny crack in the age. Bright and warm, like a summer morning. There was a cool breeze and something animated, as if someone had just taken a breath. Lila and Olek looked at each other. Lila's eyes were round like apples in an orchard. Olek held the torch so tightly that his fingers turned white. "On three," Lila whispered. "One... two..." The trunk vibrated on its own, as if someone from inside had placed their hands on the lid. "Knock." Chamomile shifted from paw to paw and raised her tail high. The feather in Lila's hand trembled and flared so that for a moment it looked like a tiny star. "Three!" The lid lifted an inch, then two. The light from underneath spilled across the boards, dancing on the cobwebs. Something, very quiet and very light, moved inside, like the rustling of paper wings.... And then, right next to their feet, in a dark corner of the attic, there was a sudden 'rustle, rustle', as if someone was still there and had just slipped out of the shadows.