The village slept by the edge of the forest and river. It was a warm Kupala Night today. The children were weaving garlands of chamomile and mint. Zosia was also weaving her little garland. Mum said: "Let it go with a wish." The garland flowed and the moon flashed over the water. Suddenly the garland lit up with a soft glow. The flame did not burn, but led along the shore. Zosia walked silently among the alders and reeds. Skylights flew like little stars over the path. "Who's there?" she whispered, clutching her skirt tightly. The river murmured her name, quite clearly. She looked into the current and saw the sign of the sun. The mark was carved on a flat stone. Over the stone squatted a tiny housefly made of moss. He had a leaf cap and cheerful eyes. "Zosia," he said, "the forest is asking for help today." A boat without oars or rudder floated out of the reeds. The same reel of sun shone on the side. The current pulled the boat under its feet. Domowik nodded and smiled broadly. The whole forest quieted, and the water vibrated once more. The boat rocked as if waiting for Zosia.