Franek and Pikuś find a strange key under an old oak tree, and a tiny hidden door no one has ever seen before.
Franek lived in a little house at the edge of a bright forest. Every morning he and his cheerful dog, Pikuś, ran between the trees, chasing birds, rustling leaves, and all the small sounds of the woods.
One sunny morning, Pikuś stopped so suddenly that Franek almost bumped into him. The dog’s nose was pressed to the ground under the biggest oak in the forest, and his tail was twitching like a metronome.
“What is it, Pikuś?” Franek asked, kneeling beside him.
Pikuś barked once and nudged a pile of leaves. Franek brushed them away and gasped. Beneath them lay a wooden key. It was old and heavy, with a tiny bird carved into the handle. A thin strand of cobweb clung to it like a silver thread.
Franek turned the key over in his hand. It did not belong to any door in his house. It did not belong to any chest he knew. Then he looked at the oak tree again and froze.
Right among the roots, half hidden in moss, was a little door.
It was so small Franek would have missed it if Pikuś had not found the key. On the door, scratched deep into the wood, was the very same bird.
Pikuś gave a low whine and took one careful step back. Franek leaned closer, holding his breath. The key felt suddenly warm in his palm.
Then, from behind the door, something inside the oak tapped once.