Boy And The Forest

A wide old stump sat beside the path. Its top was flat and covered with soft green moss. A little hole ran through the middle. Every time the wind passed through it, the stump made a funny sound.

“Woooo,” sang the stump.

Milo blinked. “Are you making that sound?”

The stump answered with another windy note.

“Woooo!”

Milo smiled. It was not a scary sound. It sounded like a sleepy flute. But the stump stood right across the narrow path. The twinkly trail shimmered on the other side.

Milo tried to step around the left side. A low branch stretched across the way.

He tried the right side. A pile of roots curled up from the ground.

Milo looked at the stump. “You are a very big block.”

The wind swirled again. A puff of leaves bumped Milo’s knees. His cap flew off and landed on the mossy stump.

“Oh!” cried Milo.

He reached for his cap, but a gust lifted it into the air. The cap sailed in a slow circle and landed behind the stump.

Milo hurried around the roots. His shoe slipped on a wet leaf, and he sat down with a soft plop.

For a moment, he stayed still. The ground was cool beneath his hands. The forest smelled green and clean. He could hear the wind, the birds, and the gentle wooo of the stump.

Milo brushed dirt from his palms.

“I wanted to follow the lights,” he said. “But I keep trying the same way.”

He looked carefully at the stump. The path did not end there. A small opening led between two young trees. Another path curved down toward a patch of yellow flowers.

Milo had not noticed them before.

He stood and fetched his cap. “The forest has more than one way forward.”

Milo first tried the narrow opening between the young trees. He held the branches apart and squeezed through. The twinkly lights appeared above him, shining on the leaves.

“There you are!” Milo said.

He took three steps.

Then the ground became thick with tall grass. The grass tickled his arms and covered his shoes. Milo could not see where the path went.

He stepped back. A tiny spider web brushed his sleeve. It was silver and bright, like a small net made of moonlight.

“Sorry,” Milo said to the spider, though he could not see it. “I will find another way.”

He returned to the stump and studied the second path. It curved toward the yellow flowers. The flowers nodded in the breeze.

Milo followed them.

The path was wider there. He could walk without ducking or squeezing. Bees hummed softly near the flowers. A warm ray of sunlight touched his face.

But the twinkly trail was fading.

One light blinked beside a fern. Another glowed near a smooth gray stone. Then both lights slipped behind the trees.

Milo stopped.

“Please wait,” he called.

The forest gave him only the sound of leaves brushing together.

Milo felt a small lump in his throat. He had wanted one clear path. He had wanted to know exactly where the lights would lead. Now there were two paths, and the lights were hard to see.

He sat on the gray stone. It was warm from the sun. Milo took the red button from his pocket and held it in his palm.

“What should I do?” he asked the button.

The button, of course, said nothing.

Milo listened instead. The wind had grown softer. The stump still sang behind him, but now its song sounded gentle.

Wooo.

Milo looked back. The two paths met near the stump. He could return to the forest edge, or he could choose one path and keep exploring.

He remembered how he had rushed when the lights moved. He remembered how the forest gave him another way when the first way was blocked.

“I do not have to know everything at once,” Milo said. “I can look, listen, and choose.”

He placed the red button on the gray stone for a moment. Then he picked it up again and put it safely in his pocket.

Milo chose the flower path. He walked slowly, watching the ground and the trees. The yellow flowers bobbed beside him. Their sweet smell mixed with the scent of pine.

Soon he found a small wooden sign resting against a tree. It had two arrows carved into it.

One arrow pointed left.

The other arrow pointed right.

Milo stepped closer. The left arrow pointed toward a path covered with soft green moss. The right arrow pointed toward a path where bright dots flickered between the ferns.

The twinkly trail was there again - but it was not on just one path. A few lights danced on the left. A few danced on the right.

Milo’s eyes grew wide.

“So that is your secret,” he said. “You can go more than one way.”

A breeze lifted the leaves around his shoes. The stump’s song floated from far behind him.

Wooo.

Milo touched the wooden sign. It felt rough under his fingers. He looked down the left path, then down the right path. Both paths were safe. Both paths led deeper among the trees.

He wished the forest would point to one choice.

Instead, the lights slipped farther away along both paths.

Milo took a careful breath. He was still in the forest, still safe, and still ready to explore. He tucked his cap firmly on his head and held the red button in his pocket.

“Tomorrow - or after a good rest - I will choose,” he said.

For now, Milo sat beneath the tree and watched the twinkly lights sparkle on both paths. The forest had blocked one way, but it had opened two more.

Milo learned that when one path is blocked, patience can help us find a new way forward.

End of chapter one.