Last night’s downpour had made a mess of things. Knee-high grass lay flattened, making the rundown cabin at the forest’s edge seem even more isolated. The cabin door was shut tight, the mossy steps covered in a fine, glistening white film. The misty air hinted at the morning to come.
The cabin door creaked open with a long sigh, revealing a pale green silhouette moving slowly inside. A delicate fragrance wafted out, instantly clearing a good bit of the mist. Bright beams of light pierced the canopy, illuminating the cabin, and dewdrops on the roof glittered like crystals.
A pale hand pushed the door open. A sleepy-eyed girl, draped in a light green robe, stepped out. She walked barefoot across the mossy steps, leaving watery footprints. A loud, clear bird call echoed from deep within the forest, jolting her awake. She carefully climbed the ladder onto the roof. The view was breathtaking: endless wilderness on one side, a single dirt road winding its way to the horizon; on the other, a layered tapestry of trees – deep greens, vibrant emeralds, bright yellows, and fiery reds – a vibrant, chaotic mix. The entire forest resembled a sleeping butterfly, slowly waking with the rising sun. Beams of light shifted between the trees, like the butterfly gently unfolding its wings in a dance of light and shadow.
The girl knew it was going to be a beautiful day. Last night’s rain had refreshed the forest; she could hear the creatures chattering and giggling. Smiling, she climbed down, changed into a light, still pale green, outfit. When she opened the door again, the mist was retreating into the forest, sunlight escorting her, showing the way. She took a deep breath, adjusting the butterfly-shaped hairpin made of folded bamboo leaves – her favorite good-luck charm. Grabbing a hand-woven basket, she headed into the woods. She knew she couldn’t explore the whole forest, but she always hoped to make new friends. The old locust tree, giant mushrooms, and wandering foxes were her usual companions. But today, she decided to venture into uncharted territory.
Several faint paths crisscrossed the forest, all made by the girl. Her shallow footprints were quickly covered by fallen leaves, which turned to mulch, only to be covered by more leaves. So, only she knew these paths. Kicking aside leaves, she tired and rested against a massive tree root. Suddenly, a startled rabbit darted out, stopping at a safe distance to observe her. The girl made rabbit ears with her hands, making funny faces. The rabbit, surprisingly, hopped back, stopping right beside her. She took out a small piece of dried mulberry cake from her basket and offered it. The rabbit buried its head in her palm, nibbled a bit, then grabbed the cake and scurried back under the root. Peeking in, the girl saw the rabbit breaking the cake into smaller pieces, feeding two baby bunnies, unfazed by her presence.
A twig snapped onto her bamboo shoe. Above, an unknown bird was building a nest. The girl brushed off her clothes, about to get up, then sat back down. A new path, hidden beneath swaying vines, had appeared – a path she’d never seen before.
Picking up her basket, she wondered who had made this path. She had to find out. The soft, knee-deep leaves made her feel like she was walking on a giant, unstable cake. The ground was a colorful mosaic of leaves, untouched by footprints, yet the intertwined branches clearly parted to create a passage leading deeper into the forest. Mist lingered in the distance, along with faint laughter. Following this natural corridor, she felt a chill in the damp air. The fog thickened, turning everything white. She felt her way along, holding onto vines and branches. The forest held so many unfamiliar things, some she hadn’t seen, others she didn’t even know existed. This white, mysterious realm filled her with both unease and excitement.
She felt like she’d reached a clearing, with nothing to hold onto. Lost, she stood bewildered in the fog. The mist reflected sunlight from all directions, blinding her. Laughter and chatter echoed all around, seeming both near and far, rising and falling. She tried to communicate with the trees, seeking help, but they didn’t respond. Only these unknown creatures, speaking in a language she couldn’t understand, continued their carefree chatter and laughter.
A flicker of panic crossed her face, but she had nowhere to go. She stood still, straining to hear, hoping to catch a word or two. But the chatter gradually faded, replaced by an eerie silence, broken only by the rustling of leaves. Something was closing in.
The mist rapidly cleared, and the girl could almost hear it evaporating. As it cleared, she found herself in the center of a clearing, her path gone. Impenetrable trees surrounded her like a fence, and the creatures from before were now gathered around.
They resembled humans, but were only palm-sized, with transparent, slender wings, the veins clearly visible. They flapped their wings slowly, in a rhythm like breathing. Seeing the girl, they seemed equally startled, quickly huddling together, those on the outside pushing in, those inside pushing back. Amused, the girl chuckled. The creatures froze, turning to look at her from a distance – a distance that was only significant to them.
The creatures began a lively discussion, still in that incomprehensible language. The girl noticed they were pointing at her, so she was clearly the topic. She suddenly remembered a legend she’d read, describing these creatures: Wood Elves. They never left the forest and rarely interacted with outsiders. They loved the forest and were dedicated to protecting it. The girl thought perhaps the elves were about to perform a ritual, and her appearance had interrupted them.
“I’m sorry, I got lost,” she said, unsure if they understood.
The elves stared blankly, unmoved. They scattered, forming a circle around her, and began to sing, their bodies swaying. Their steps were light and quick, but the tune was high and distant, like a call to a faraway deity. As they sang, all other sounds in the forest ceased. The earth fell into a deep slumber. It was the first time the girl had heard such a mystical song. The elves' unique language, combined with the melody, cleansed her heart like rain, leaving it clear and pure.
This must be their ritual, the girl thought. The elves stopped singing and retreated into the forest.
“Wait!” she called out to their delicate figures. “Are you Wood Elves?”
No response, only a few faint giggles.
The girl saw mist rising again from deep within the forest. She took a redwood sapling from her basket and swiftly planted it in the center of the clearing. She wanted to remember this place, these lovely creatures. Before the mist thickened, she finished, packed her tools, and saw the path reappear. She looked around, memorizing the scene, then plunged back into the misty corridor.
The girl hadn’t slept well, the elves' song echoing in her head all night. She opened the cabin door. The overcast sky still looked like night. A thunderstorm was brewing. She wondered if the elves would appear, but she decided to go see anyway.
Wearing a bamboo hat, she navigated the forest. The path she’d cleared yesterday was scattered by the wind, but she could still vaguely make it out. Dark clouds piled up on the horizon, accompanied by rumbling thunder, rolling towards her quickly. She found the rabbit’s tree root, but the path to the clearing was gone. The sky had darkened completely. She took out a bamboo leaf pouch and released the fireflies. They clung to her hat, providing a faint glow.
A bolt of lightning struck the ground, followed by a deafening clap of thunder that shook the entire forest. The distant forest looked strange, the horizon tinged with red. The forest was on fire!
Under the root, the rabbit watched the girl frantically searching for the path, just like yesterday.
In her panic, the girl touched her loose hair. Her good-luck charm was gone! She couldn’t be without it; it kept her from getting lost. She crouched, searching every corner. At the other end of the forest, the fire had already painted half the sky red. The dark clouds churned but didn’t release a single drop of rain. The fire roared and spread in the stifling heat, devouring the forest.
Mist! The girl found the corridor. No time to look for her charm. She ran along the winding path, losing one bamboo shoe. She paused, considering: the shoe or the whole forest? She kicked off the remaining shoe and continued running barefoot.
The corridor ended, but the clearing wasn’t there, only a messy patch of small trees. The Wood Elves were nowhere in sight.
The fire was closing in, carried by the heat. The terrifying sound of burning was like the forest groaning, struggling, wailing. All that remained in its wake was lifeless black, even the soil hardened and ashen. The girl heard the trees screaming, describing the horror of the fire: from the treetops, the fire line looked like a wave, pushing from afar. Ahead of the fire line were terrified companions; behind it, death.
“Come out! Aren’t you supposed to protect the forest?” she shouted in all directions, again and again, until she was hoarse. Her voice cracking, she slumped against a large tree, sobbing, still muttering hoarsely, “Aren’t you supposed to protect the forest…”
Warm liquid slid down her cheek, dripping onto her hand. Each tear felt like an ice crystal from the far north, chilling her to the bone. The roar of the heat swept past her ears, the air growing hotter and stuffier. The bright red flames, like the forest’s flowing blood, cast an eerie, sinister glow on the earth. The girl ignored it all. She didn’t want to leave the forest, her home, even if it meant burning along with it.
A cold drop landed on her face. She woke from her despair. It was rain! She looked up. The Wood Elves had appeared. Today, they wore pure white robes, without yesterday’s playfulness, their expressions serious. They scattered, forming a circle around the girl, hands clasped, and began to sing, suspended in the air.
The girl’s tears turned to laughter. She hugged her knees, looking up at the elves' mysterious ritual. When their song began, the forest fell silent, the fire and thunder hushed. Rain poured down, transparent notes landing on the forest. The cold liquid splashed her face, making it hard to keep her eyes open. She closed them, listening to this song of life, images appearing in her mind: the raging flames were subdued, retreating. Raindrops hit the charred trees, dripping onto the ground, and instantly, millions of fresh green sprouts burst through the hardened earth. A crack appeared in the dark clouds. The sun grabbed the cloud’s wound, tearing it open. Sunlight swept across the land, and the new sprouts danced and grew to the rhythm of the song. Everything in the forest returned to normal. The trees began to cheer; she understood them, they were celebrating their rebirth.
At some point, the singing faded. The girl wiped the rain from her face and opened her eyes to find the elves gone. She stood up. She was in the clearing, and the towering tree behind her was the redwood she’d planted yesterday!
For days, the girl replayed the fire and the elves' miraculous feat in her mind. The forest after the rain was as usual, as if nothing had happened. But one thing proved it wasn’t a dream: her good-luck charm was lost. From now on, she’d have to carefully mark her way.
The girl sat on the steps of her cabin, head in her hands. It was all still unbelievable. She recalled the elves' melody, unconsciously humming it. As she hummed, she felt someone harmonizing. She looked around. The Wood Elves had surrounded her and the cabin. There were no words; the humming seemed even more comforting.
Lost in the melody, she suddenly remembered something. She looked back at the forest behind the cabin, then at the wilderness in front, and asked in surprise, “Can you Wood Elves leave the forest?”
The elves all laughed. Two elves flew from behind the cabin, carrying her lost good-luck charm. They carefully pinned it to her hair. “No, silly! You are the Wood Elf.” Then they continued to dance and sing in a circle.