During a holiday at Grandma Hela’s house, Basia, Olek and Igor uncover a strange coin, curious marks and fresh tracks in the old orchard. The clues seem to lead somewhere hidden among the trees.
Basia, Olek and Igor always counted the days until their holidays at Grandma Hela’s house. Her cottage stood at the edge of the village, pressed right up against an old orchard that nobody seemed to care for anymore. The trees grew wild and crowded, their branches tangled together, and the grass was thick with nettles, fallen apples and bruised pears. It was the perfect place for hiding, climbing and inventing adventures.
This summer, though, the orchard stopped feeling like a game.
One morning, Igor was crouching beneath the oldest apple tree when something flashed in the grass. He bent down and picked up a coin, dark with age but still shiny at the edges. It felt heavier than it should have. On one side was a strange mark: a letter Z twisted together with three small leaves.
He called the others at once.
Basia turned the coin over in her palm. “It’s old money,” she said, though her voice was softer than usual. “Someone must have lost it a long time ago.”
Olek’s eyes widened. “Or buried treasure.”
Before anyone could argue, Grandma Hela came out with a tray of lemonade and set it in the shade. When they showed her the coin, she looked at it for a moment too long.
“There are things in that orchard people forget,” she said at last. Then she smiled in a way that made Basia think she knew more than she was saying. “But if you want answers, you’ll have to look carefully.”
After lunch the children went back to the tree. The ground nearby was pressed down in a strange spiral, as if something heavy had turned round and round there. Olek said it had to be a creature. Igor wanted to map the orchard and mark every odd thing they found. Basia stared at the earth for a long time and said there might be something hidden underneath it.
By evening they had made a plan: the next day they would return with torches, a compass and a magnifying glass.
They barely slept.
At sunrise, they hurried to the old apple tree. The spiral was gone.
In its place were fresh footprints, small and sharp, leading straight toward the blackberry thicket where nobody ever went.
Basia swallowed. “Someone was here last night.”
Olek switched on his torch, though the sun was already bright.
“We follow them,” he whispered.
Igor nodded, and the three of them stepped into the brambles just as the branches parted with a slow, creaking sound. On the other side, hidden in the shadow of the thicket, was something none of them had expected to find...