Jarek and Leska slip into the forest on the shortest night, hoping to find the rare fern flower. But the dark trees are full of whispers, strange paths, and creatures that are not quite hidden.
In the old Slavic village, where the cottages leaned toward the forest edge and the evening wind moved softly through the oaks, lived a boy named Jarek and his younger sister Leska. Their little house stood so close to the trees that, at night, it seemed the forest could reach out and tap the windows.
One warm evening, their grandmother sat by the door and told them a story she had heard long ago. Deep in the forest, she said, a fern flower opened only once a year, on the shortest night. It was bright as a tiny flame and quick as a blink. Whoever found it might carry its luck home for the whole year.
Leska’s eyes grew round. Jarek said nothing, but his heart thumped hard. After supper, when Grandmother was tidying the cups, the two children slipped out barefoot and followed the silver path of moonlight into the trees.
The forest smelled of damp moss and wild mint. Crickets sang. Somewhere far away, an owl called once, then fell silent. Jarek walked in front, and Leska held tight to the back of his shirt whenever the branches brushed her cheeks.
Soon a fluffy hare popped up from behind a root. His whiskers twitched, and his black eyes shone in the moonlight.
"Where are you going at this hour?" he asked.
"We’re looking for the fern flower," Leska whispered.
The hare’s ears flicked up. "Then you must be careful. This is a night for strange things. The forest likes to play tricks."
He hopped away before Jarek could ask more.
The children went on until the path split in two. One way was dark and quiet, with something laughing very softly between the bushes. The other led toward a pale patch of tall ferns, where the air smelled sweet and sharp, like rain and hidden herbs.
Then the bushes beside them shook.
Out stepped a strange little creature with a hat sewn from bark and a pouch hanging at his side. His eyes gleamed like wet stones.
"At last," he said, looking from Jarek to Leska. "Which path will you choose?"
Jarek gripped Leska’s hand. The forest seemed to hold its breath.