The Glowing Moss at Silverfall

It was a golden morning in Silbenwald when Piek the hedgehog crawled out of his leaf-ball beneath the great ash tree and lifted his nose to the air. The warm lanterns along the branches were still burning, even though the sky was already bright — that was simply how things were in Silbenwald, the lanterns always stayed a little bit awake. Piek sniffed. There was something. Something fresh and cool and mossy. A scent he had never once smelled before. The little hedgehog stretched up onto his tiptoes, unhooked his lantern from the ash tree's root, and whispered quietly to himself: "Today is a very special day."

Piek trotted along the winding forest path that curled through the soft moss like a sleeping stream. Above him the leaves rustled, and a firefly that hadn't yet gone to bed settled for a moment on the glass of his lantern. "Good morning," said Piek kindly. The firefly blinked twice — which in Silbenwald means very much the same as a smile — and floated away. Then, from somewhere deep in the bushes, Piek heard a familiar rustling. Twigs snapped. Leaves shivered. And then a round, grey-brown striped head appeared through the bracken. Balduin the badger yawned so enormously that you could count every single one of his teeth.

Balduin the badger was large and wonderfully unhurried, and he nearly always wore a blue apron because he so loved to bake. Today he had forgotten it entirely — which meant he really was quite curious. "Piek," Balduin rumbled in his deep, warm voice, "can you smell that too?" Piek nodded eagerly. "Moss," said Piek. "But not ordinary moss. Something — glowing." Balduin raised one great paw and pointed in the direction of Silverfall, where the rush of the water carried through the morning wood like a quiet song. "I think it's coming from there," said the badger. Piek and Balduin looked at one another. Then both nodded at exactly the same moment, and without another word, they set off together.

The path to Silverfall led through the oldest part of Silbenwald, where the trees were so broad that you would have needed three badger-arms stretched wide to reach around them. Here hung the greatest number of lanterns, because even during the day it stayed a little dim between those tall, ancient trunks. Soft mist curled like a gentle scarf around the roots of the great trees. Piek held his lantern high and Balduin plodded steadily at his side. Then suddenly something orange-brown came shooting down from above and landed with a cheerful "Whump!" squarely on Balduin's broad back. Fippa the squirrel somersaulted neatly and stood beaming before the two of them.

Fippa the squirrel wore a yellow neckerchief and always seemed to have nuts in her cheeks, even when she didn't. Fippa was the fastest creature in Silbenwald and knew everything there was to know from up high. "I've seen it!" she cried, bouncing from one foot to the other. "From the very top of the Silver Fir I've seen it! At Silverfall — the moss is glowing! Actually glowing, Piek, not just a little flicker like the fireflies. It glows softly and green and warm, like a sleeping lamp." Piek drew a slow breath through his nose. "Then we must go and look," he said, calm and certain. Balduin gave an agreeable rumble. And Fippa, out of sheer delight, turned a little somersault.

As the three of them rounded the great bend in the forest path, they heard Silverfall first as a gentle murmur, then as a clear plashing, then as a full and friendly roar. The water tumbled over three moss-covered rocks into a small round pool, and in that pool the lanterns of the surrounding trees were reflected like little golden moons. But then Piek saw it. On the rocks, right where the water slid silently over them, grew a thick, deep carpet of moss — and that moss was glowing. It glowed softly, in a pale and greenish white, so steady and so calm that Piek felt his heart suddenly beat very slowly and very warmly. "Oh," said Piek quietly. Nothing more was needed.

Balduin settled himself carefully onto a flat stone beside the pool and folded his paws in his lap. Fippa climbed without a sound onto the lowest rock and studied the glowing moss from close up, without touching it — for every creature in Silbenwald knew: you look first, before you reach out. Piek set his lantern on a stone and knelt down beside it. The moss glowed steadily, like a slow and gentle breath. It was so still and so beautiful that all three of them said absolutely nothing for a long while. Only the water spoke, and the wind through the leaves, and somewhere far off, a blackbird. That was quite enough. Silbenwald was sometimes most beautiful when you simply listened.

Then came a rustling from another direction. Soft, careful, barely there at all — but Piek had sharp ears. Perched between two ancient roots sat the owl, even though it was really far too bright for an owl to be about. The owl wore round spectacles and a moss-grey waistcoat and did not look at all surprised. "Ah," said the owl in an unhurried voice. "So you've found it, then." Piek looked up. "Owl, do you know why the moss glows?" The owl was quiet for a moment. Then she spoke: "This moss glows because it is very, very old. It has drunk so much moonlight, across so many nights, that now it carries that light inside itself. Even in the daytime." Everyone was silent again. It was a very beautiful answer.

Then all four of them heard one last sound. Soft, unhurried footsteps, almost without noise. I, the Fox, stepped out of the mist and sat down beside Piek on the mossy ground. I said nothing straightaway. I let the glow of the moss fall across my face and closed my eyes for a moment. Then I spoke: "There are things in Silbenwald that do not need to be explained in order to be loved. This moss glows — and that is enough. Today you have seen something that not many forest children ever find. Not because it is hidden, but because you must be quiet enough to notice it." Piek nodded slowly. Balduin smiled. Fippa listened — just for once — without saying a word. And the owl winked from behind her round spectacles.

When the midday sun gilded the canopy of Silbenwald, they all turned for home. Piek carried his lantern, even though the light was more than bright enough — because the lantern felt familiar, like a friend. Balduin hummed quietly to himself as he walked. Fippa swung from branch to branch and called down again and again: "I can still see it! It's still glowing!" And the owl was already asleep again, somewhere high above. I, the Fox, stayed a moment longer at the pool and looked at the moss. It glowed on, calm and steady, as though it had all the time in the world. Some things in Silbenwald are like that: they simply glow, because they carry so much goodness inside them. Perhaps, I thought, that is true of you as well.