Forest circle of friends

⏱ ~5 min reading

In the deep, deep forest, where the ferns grew taller than hares' ears and the old fir trees smelled of resin and coolness, there was a small clearing. Not large, not noticeable - just a quiet round patch of land, surrounded by moss, like a green rug. The forest protected it like an old grandmother protects a silver spoon.

Every month, as soon as the full moon rolled into the sky, the forest animals would gather in this clearing. It was their tradition. The oldest, the most important. Without it, they couldn't live peacefully.

The first to come was an old deer. He walked slowly, his hooves gently crunching the moss, and on his branchy antlers you could sometimes see yellowed leaves. The deer sat in the middle of the circle and waited. Behind him were a hare, a fox, a hedgehog, a squirrel, an owl, a badger. Each in its place. Each with its own smell - the hare smelled of grass, the fox - of dry leaves, the hedgehog - of earth and apples.

When everyone sat down, the deer said quietly:

— Who will start today?

The hare was the first to prick up his ears this evening. He moved his nose for a long time, as if he were sniffing his words before speaking them.

"I have to say..." he began. "Fox, you scared me. Three times this month. I couldn't sleep under the bush. My heart was pounding like a drop on a leaf.".

All the animals turned to the fox. She lowered her sharp nose. Her red fur seemed darker in the moonlight.

"I know, bunny," she said quietly. "I was hungry. I have two fox cubs, and I had something to feed them. But I should have looked for food in another way. Forgive me.".

The hare moved his ear. He thought for a long time. Then he nodded:

"I hear you. And I forgive you. Just warn me - I'd rather climb up a tree than under a bush.".

The fox laughed, as quietly as the rustle of dry grass. The quarrel dissolved like mist over a stream.

The owl spoke next. She didn't often say many words, but this evening her voice trembled a little.

"I'm sad," she said. "I'm sitting on an oak tree alone. No one comes flying in. I hear everyone walking, talking, laughing down below. And I'm like behind glass.".

The hedgehog, small and spotted, started and stamped his paws:

"Sow, I'll come in. I just thought you liked being alone.".

"I love silence," replied the owl. "But loneliness is different. Silence warms. Loneliness chills.".

The badger nodded:

"I'll stop by too. I'll bring you some strawberry jam. I just got some new ones.".

The owl folded its wings and smiled as only owls can—with its eyes.

Then it was Shurkh the squirrel's turn. She was jumping on her tail.

"And I am so happy!" she exclaimed. "A baby squirrel was born to me. Small, red-haired, with a white belly. It has already opened its eyes. And it hiccups so funny this morning - like a mosquito sneezing!"

The whole circle was noisy - the animals rejoiced with her. The deer bent his antlers and gently touched her head with them - it was a deer's blessing. The hare stamped his feet on the ground, as only he could when he was very, very happy.

So the evening went. The little hedgehog told how he had found a mushroom that looked like a hat and did not dare to eat it because he was afraid that it was someone's house. The fox confessed that he was afraid of winter. The badger told how he had a dream in which he could fly.

Little things became important. Loneliness disappeared. Quarrels dissolved. Because when you speak — and they listen to you, truly, without interrupting, without laughing, without lecturing — it becomes easier to breathe.

When the circle was almost over, the old deer raised his head to the moon and spoke slowly, as if reading from an ancient book:

— We cannot live without words to each other. Words are thin threads. Invisible. But when there are many of them, they weave into a blanket. And this blanket warms us all.

Everyone was silent. Only the night breeze rustled in the tops of the pine trees.

"We are family," the deer added. "Not by blood. By word. By listening. By the fact that we sit in this circle and hear each other.".

The animals got up one by one and returned home. The hare accompanied the owl to the oak. The squirrel carried a raspberry branch to the badger as a gift. The fox walked quietly next to the hare, and they were not afraid of each other. Because in a circle they became different.

And the moon above the clearing shone warmly, like an old silver lamp in a nursery. He had known this tradition for a long time. And he was glad that it was not disappearing.

They say that in that forest there is still that little clearing. And when you are sad, or when your heart is noisy, or when there is no one to tell about your tiny joys - look for your circle. It is somewhere. Maybe near your grandmother. Maybe among two or three good friends. Maybe in the family at the dinner table. Because a circle is where you are listened to. And it makes you warmer than the thickest woolen blanket.