The young swan was called Snowman. He was born in the spring on a quiet lake near the village. He swam with his family all summer, growing up. And in the fall, when all the swans began to set off for warmer climes, disaster struck him. His wing caught on the wires on the pole — the human lines. The wing broke.
The swans cried, flying sadly above him. But they could not stay - the cold was coming. They flew away. The snowman was left alone on the lake.
The lake froze. The snowman couldn't fly. He couldn't even swim—the ice was solid. He sat on the ice. Snowfall. Cold. He barely moved. Two tears rolled down—swans can cry too, but quietly.
Fortunately, two village children, Yurko and Marinka, spotted him from the shore. They were playing sledding. «Marinka, look, a swan!» shouted Yurko. «Why is he here? Everyone has flown away.» «He must be wounded.».
The children didn't run. They weren't scared. They walked carefully on the thin ice—two steps at a time. They arrived. The snowman looked at them with big black eyes. His voice was hoarse—weak.
"Don't be afraid," whispered Marinka. "We'll save you. Yurko, take it from that side. Hold your head, and I'll hold your paws.".
They wrapped it in their old scarf. They carried it together, a heavy swan, but they didn't let it go. They brought it to the old woman Vekla, who lived on the edge of the village. The old woman knew all the herbs, she treated both people and animals.
Grandma Vekla put the Snowman on the table. She stroked it with her palm, looking at the wing.
"It was broken a long time ago. It has grown back badly. It won't fly. Or maybe it will die today or tomorrow - it's very cold.".
Marinka started crying. Yurko clenched his fists. "Grandma, come on! Do something!"«
Baba Vekla sighed. "I'll do what I can, children. I'll make him a warm rosehip tincture. I'll warm him up. And then — God willing.".
She played by the stove. She stroked the Snowman's head. She gave him warm water from a spoon. The swan drinks. He wants to live.
Evening came. Christmas Eve. Marinka and Yurko did not go - they sat with the swan. Grandma set the table for him - kutya, uzvar. The swan did not eat anything, just breathed.
Suddenly, there was a light knock on the window. Baba Vekla looked out. Behind the window stood a tall old man - in white and gold robes, a mitre, and a crutch. He had a white beard. In his hand was a small glass with something shimmering golden.
Grandma Vekla crossed herself. She wasn't scared—she recognized him. She opened the door.
"Veklo, I brought you medicine for the swan. This is cherry blossom milk that I have been saving since spring. It is enchanted. Give it three drops. And the wing will grow back smoothly. By spring it will fly away with its own.".
The old woman accepted the glass. She cried: "Thank you, Saint.".
— These children are strong. Yurko and Marinka — they have bright hearts. It was for them that I came. All this sadness — so that they would do good today. Now everything will be fine.
The saint disappeared in the night snow.
Baba Vekla dripped a drop into the swan's beak. Once. Two. Three. The snowman immediately moved. He opened his eyes. He looked clearly. And he whistled softly, softly - like a real swan.
Marinka and Yurko jumped for joy. The Snowman lived with the old woman Vekla all winter - in a warm corner, on the hay. By spring, his wing had grown back perfectly. In April, the old woman released him. He circled over the lake, looking for his own. And when the other swans flew away the following autumn - the Snowman flew away with them. But every winter he returned - once on Christmas Eve. He sat in the yard of the old woman Vekla. Yurko and Marinka ran out to meet him. Because they knew - a friend had returned. And true friends never forget.
💛 Sometimes it's the wounded soul that finds the kindest people.