Forest Queen of the Green Coast

⏱ ~6 min reading

At the very edge of the Enchanted Forest, where the dark pines parted and the shaggy glades opened up, there was a place that all the animals called the Green Shore. It smelled of fresh pine needles, wet earth, and the honey of wild herbs. A quiet stream flowed between the trees, and from every hill grew ferns, tall and curly, like the hair of a young fox.

The Forest Queen lived in this place.

Her crown was made of living daisies—they grew straight from her hair, warm, smiling, with yellow little suns inside. Her dress was made of transparent morning mist, and as she walked, the edges of her dress spread over the moss like a light cloud. Her shoes were made of white lily petals. The Queen's voice was soft, like evening leaves.

It was her duty to take care of all the forest inhabitants. And she did.

She treated the hares that came running with cut paws. She washed the wound with spring water, covered it with a plantain leaf, and said softly:

"Now, bunny, sit down. Everything will be healed by tomorrow.".

She combed owls whose feathers were matted after a stormy night. Her fingers ran through the feathers, making them smooth and silky. She fed dragonflies honey from a spoon made of a walnut shell. She listened to the song of the larks and counted their voices like droplets.

In her garden, under the century-old ash tree, there was always someone sitting there—a squirrel with a cold, a crane with a broken wing, or a little mouse who had a fight with her family and came to complain.

The Queen listened to everyone. That was her greatest magic.

One warm late summer, a boy walked into the forest. His name was Andriyko. He got lost. He went far, further than he had ever walked before. He walked and walked, looking for a path — and couldn't find one. He sat down on a stump, put his hands around his knees, and cried.

He cried quietly, like a child, hiding his face in his sleeve. His shoulders trembled. Dew dripped from a hazel leaf near him, and somewhere far away a woodpecker was knocking. And Andriyko was crying not only because he was lost. He was feeling heavy inside. For a whole week.

The Queen felt it. She always felt it when someone with a heavy chest came to her shore. She rose quietly, without a rustle. Her misty dress passed lightly over the fern. The daisies in her crown lit up like warm buttons - that's how they lit up when sadness was nearby.

The Queen approached slowly. She wasn't scared. She didn't say a word—she just stood next to him, a step away. And waited.

When Andriyko felt that someone was nearby, he raised his tear-stained face. His eyes were red. He was scared — not of the Queen, but of being caught in tears. He tried to wipe his cheeks with his sleeve, but his hands were in the ground, and he only smeared a gray streak across his face.

The queen sat down next to him, right on the moss. She folded her hands on her knees.

“Sit next to me, little one,” she said, “if you want.”.

Andriyko didn't know why, but he obeyed. He sat down. Between them lay moss, soft as a down pillow, and it smelled of warm resin.

The queen didn't ask, "What happened?" She didn't ask, "Why are you crying?" She didn't give advice. She just looked at the stream and waited.

The boy was silent for a long, long time. Then, without looking at her, he spoke. At first, barely audible. Then louder.

“I had a fight with my mom,” he said. “A big one. I yelled at her. I slammed the door. And then I left. I didn’t know I’d go this far.”.

The Queen nodded. She said nothing.

"And also," Andriyko sighed, "I have bad grades. Everyone reads faster than me, and I mix up the letters. The teacher looks at me like this... well, you know how.".

The Queen nodded again. Her daisies were softly glowing. Somewhere high up, a titmouse was singing.

"And it also seems to me that I'm completely alone. There are boys in the yard, but they play differently. I'm somehow different with them. And different at home. And at school. It's like I was lost even before I got lost in this forest.".

The boy said this and was surprised to himself. It was the first time he had said it out loud. Before, he had only thought at night, looking at the ceiling.

The Queen was silent. She just took Andriy's hand. Her hand was warm as a baked loaf of bread, and light as the fluff of a dandelion. She said nothing. She just held his hand.

Andriyko felt something loosening in his chest. It was as if a tight knot that had been sitting there for a week had quietly untied. The tears rolled down again—but this time not from pain, but from relief. That's what happens when you hold something heavy for a long time and then finally put it down.

They sat like that for maybe an hour. Maybe more. The sun had set a little, and its rays passed through the pine trees in golden columns. Dragonflies danced over the stream. Somewhere in the grass a hedgehog rustled softly, looked at them, and hid again.

When Andriyko stopped crying, the Queen turned to him and smiled for the first time.

"Now, little one," she said quietly, "it's time to go home.".

"I don't know the way," Andriyko whispered.

“You know,” the Queen stood up and pointed with her hand. “See, between those two birches? Go straight. The path will lead you there. But,” she leaned over and looked him straight in the eye with her gray-green, lake-like eyes, “first I’ll tell you one thing. Little one, you’re not alone. You’ve never been. It’s just that sometimes you need someone nearby to be silent with you. Didn’t advise. Didn’t correct. Just was.

Andriyko nodded. He understood. Not completely with his head, but with all his heart.

He came home. He hugged his mother first — without even taking off his sneakers. He said «I’m sorry.» His mother held his face in her hands for a long time and was silent. You know how? Just like the Queen. She just held him.

At school, Andriyko continued to mix up letters. But now he wasn't afraid to mix them up. Because he knew: mistakes aren't scary, what's scary is being alone. And he wasn't alone anymore.

Sometimes, when it became difficult for him again, he would close his eyes and imagine a crown of thorns, a quiet hand in his palm, and the sound of the stream on Green Bank. And it became easier.

And the Queen of the Enchanted Forest is still sitting in her place. Waiting for someone else to come. Because her greatest magic is not to fix. But to simply be there.