Little Wild-Rose

Little Wild-Rose

Long ago, at the foot of green mountains, lived a husband and wife. Their home was warm, their garden bore apples and plums, and roses bloomed beneath the windows every spring. But the couple were sad because they wished very much for a child. One day, the husband set out on a long journey. He walked through fields, slept beneath trees, crossed cold streams, and at last came to a lonely cottage in the woods. A wise old man lived there. After listening to the traveler, the old man gave him a large red apple. “Divide it in half,” he said. “Eat one half yourself and carry the other half to your wife. Then let what is meant to happen, happen.” The man thanked him and set off for home. The road was long, the sun was warm, and the apple smelled so sweet that the man could not resist. First he ate one half. Then, without thinking, he ate the other half as well. Only then did he remember the old man’s words. “Oh dear,” he sighed. “What have I done?” Tired, he lay down in soft grass and fell asleep. When he woke, he heard a tiny cry. Beside him, among the wildflowers, lay a baby girl. Her little hair shone like gold in the sunlight, and her eyes were clear as the morning sky. A bright messenger from the sky bent over the child. He touched her brow with a drop of pure water and said, “Let her be called Wild-Rose. She came into the world among grass and flowers, and her heart will be as free as the forest wind.” The man lifted the baby gently into his arms and hurried home. But over the forest rose a great griffin. Its wings hid the sun, and the wind from them hummed in the treetops. The griffin saw the baby and carried her away. The man cried out, but the enormous bird had already flown toward the mountains. High above, in a mighty tree, was the griffin’s nest. Three young griffins lived there. When they saw the little girl, they did not fear her or harm her. One pushed soft feathers beneath her head, another brought a ripe berry, and the third opened a wing to protect her from the wind. So Wild-Rose remained in the wondrous nest. Not far away, among the rocks, lay a dark spring. An old many-headed serpent lived beside it and frightened anyone who came near. From time to time, it crept toward the griffins’ tree. One night, the serpent came again. The ground rumbled and the leaves trembled. Then a soft white light shone above the mountains. The same heavenly guardian who had named the girl stood between the serpent and the tree. “There will be no fear here,” he said. Light spread across the rocks, and the serpent withdrew to empty valleys far away. It never returned. When the adult griffin came home and saw that the danger had passed, it thought the little girl had brought good fortune to the nest. The great bird folded its wings around her, and for a moment Wild-Rose stood in warm golden light. From that day, the griffin loved her as its own child. It built her a small room among the branches from bending vines, moss, and flowers. When the wind blew, the room rocked gently like a cradle. Years passed. Wild-Rose grew up in the forest. Birds woke her in the morning. By day she gathered berries and listened to streams. In the evening, she sang with the wind. She knew where the first snowdrops appeared, which hollow tree sheltered a sleepy squirrel, and when wild geese crossed the valley. She saw people only rarely. One day, a young prince lost his way in the forest. He had wandered from his companions and searched for the road for a long time. Then he saw the amazing nest and the young griffins among the trees. Frightened, he lifted his bow. “Do not,” said a voice. “They will not hurt you.” Wild-Rose stood on a branch above him. The prince slowly lowered his bow. “I am sorry,” he said. “I did not know who they were.” “When you do not know, it is better to look carefully first than to attack,” she answered. The prince smiled. “That is good advice.” They did not speak for long, but the prince remembered her clear eyes and gentle voice. When he returned to the palace, he told his parents about the girl who lived among griffins and spoke to the forest as if it were her family. He wished to see her again, but did not know the way. The palace messengers asked in nearby villages whether anyone knew the distant forest well. An elderly woman who had gathered mountain herbs for many years came forward. “I know the old paths,” she said. “But the girl must not be dragged to the palace. I will only speak with her.” The woman took a small pot and set off. When she reached the griffins’ tree, she lit a fire and deliberately placed three stones so crookedly that the pot kept tipping over. Wild-Rose watched from above and finally called, “Grandmother, you are not setting it right!” “Oh dear,” laughed the woman. “My hands are not so clever now. Will you show me?” Wild-Rose climbed down. Together, they set the pot properly, brewed fragrant herbs, and sat by the fire. The woman told stories of cities, bridges, fairs, books, music, and people who lived far beyond the forest. “And a young prince would very much like to thank you for the day you stopped his hand,” she added. “But whether you go to meet him is for you to decide.” Wild-Rose thought. She loved her forest, but she had long wondered what lay beyond the mountains. “I will go,” she said. “But first I must say goodbye to my family.” The griffin walked around her for a long while, setting down its great feet heavily. Then it touched her shoulder with its beak and laid a golden feather before her. “I will return,” promised Wild-Rose. She came to the palace not as a captive and not as a curiosity, but as a guest. The prince met her at the gate. “I am glad you came,” he said. “And even more glad that you came by your own choice.” He showed her the garden, the library, the stables, and the high tower from which blue mountains could be seen. Wild-Rose told him about the forest, the griffins, and the quiet voices of nature. They often disagreed. The prince thought the palace library was the finest place in the world. Wild-Rose insisted that no book could replace the forest after rain. Then they laughed and agreed that the world was large enough for both books and forests. At last the prince asked, “Would you like to stay here with me?” Wild-Rose did not answer at once. “Only if I may still walk to the mountains, see the griffins, and remain myself.” “I would not ask you to stay otherwise,” said the prince. Then she agreed. The palace held a celebration. But the best gift for Wild-Rose was not a golden dress or a box of jewels. The prince ordered a whole garden of wild roses planted beside the palace. Beyond it, he left a path leading straight toward the forest. Every spring, Wild-Rose walked that path into the mountains. High above the trees, a familiar shape appeared, strong wings beat in the air, and the great griffin flew down to greet her. And whenever someone at the palace was too quick to judge a stranger or fear what they did not understand, Wild-Rose smiled and said, “Look carefully first. A good heart may be hidden behind very large wings.” People remembered that advice for a long, long time.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨