Leszek pressed his feet into the tall grass, which tickled his calves with every step. Next to him walked Jagna - slightly younger, but braver. They still had some way to go to the Glade of Nine Arrows, where, according to Grandma, the berries were always the biggest and darkest. They both gazed at the speckled shadows cast by the old oak trees. The sun was already shining high and the birds were singing as loudly as if they wanted to drown out the murmuring of the nearby stream. - Leszek, look! - cried Jagna, bending down to something in the grass. The boy ran up and saw that the girl was holding a strange, heavy key in her hand. It was covered in a green patina and had marks carved on its head resembling bent tree roots. - Maybe this is the key to Baba Yaga's hut? - Leszek laughed, but his voice trembled a little. He always liked his grandmother's stories about the old times, when mermaids walked in the forest and ghouls lurked in the swamps. Grandma used to say: "Every forest has its guardians and its secrets, remember that". The children decided to see if they could find anything in the area to which the unusual key would fit. They dabbled between moss and ferns for several hours until they finally came to a place they had never seen before. In the middle of a gentle hill, overgrown with rosehip bushes, stood an old stone slab, and around it the ground was slightly sunken. - I think it's a barrow - Jagna whispered. - Grandma said that the souls of past heroes sleep under such mounds. And sometimes someone guards the entrance.... Leszek knelt down and noticed a small hole in the slab, just like one created for their key. He gently slid the key inside and suddenly felt the ground beneath them tremble slightly. At the same moment, a tall figure emerged from the bushes - a woman with long hair woven into a garland of forest flowers, wrapped in a bright green light. Her eyes were as bright as the morning mist. Jagna and Leszek froze in stillness, holding hands. The woman smiled mysteriously and said quietly: - Whoever wants to cross the threshold of the ancient barrow must know the name of the protector of this forest. Do you dare to speak my name...? The children looked at each other with beating hearts. The answer was at hand, and yet no one was sure what decision to make.