Mother puts both daughters inside the fir… See more

Elara paused, her hand resting on the iron latch. For a moment, it seemed she might answer. But instead, she only said, “Because the forest is not safe at night.”

It was not the kind of answer that satisfied Lina. And it was not the kind that children forget.

The Fir Tree
Deep in the forest stood an enormous fir tree—older than any living villager could remember. Its trunk was wide enough that three people holding hands could not encircle it. Its branches stretched outward like protective arms, dense and shadowed.

The girls had been warned never to go near it.

“Some places,” Elara told them, “are not meant for us.”

But warnings have a way of planting curiosity. And curiosity, in children, grows faster than fear.

One afternoon, when Elara was busy repairing the roof before the coming rains, Lina and Maris slipped away into the woods.

They followed the narrow trail that deer often used, stepping carefully over roots and fallen branches. The forest seemed quieter the deeper they went, as if the world itself were holding its breath.

And then they saw it.

The fir tree.