"I told her to add three tea spoons of a potion to her tea, but what do you think she did? She infused almost the whole bottle! Now her daughter has two pretty little mushrooms on her forehead."

"You don't say so!" and yet grandma doesn't seem surprised to hear of unexpected mushrooms' emersion. "It's a very interesting by-effect. What sort of a mushroom it is?" she's stirring her coffee with a silver spoon.

Astrid shrugs her shoulders, "I didn't mention, for having seen Flora's sudden gift, she starts running all over the house like crazy and screaming something about her "lost beauty" and "wasted youth". Now she has both: mushrooms and pimples," says the young woman, drenching a fresh croissant in her coffee.

When my sister and I appeared in the living room, the table was crammed with my favorite morning food. Astrid knows we love it so much. But when did she make it? The dinosaur fridge was almost empty, and I was arguing with Billy upstairs not so long to have enough time to prepare a fancy cafe breakfast: fresh orange juice cold and brightly looking in a transparent jug with moist condensate on its "belly"; chocolate and classic croissants, Dresden Apfelkuchen, éclairs with green, lilac, pink, and yellow icing, and other little cakes and pastry of different shapes and forms I don't know the names of; four big bowls groaning with ripe fruits, berries, and my favorite nuts; and, of course, bacon, fried and boiled eggs, crispy garlic toasts, various sandwiches (I knew they have some!), linden flower honey, some blueberry and forest strawberry jam, fragrant coffee, and two types of tea for those who want something more substantial.

Maybe just for a second it is like good old times, until Billy sits with her leg under her buns, leans her smartphone up against a coffeepot, starts watching some show with subs and munching cherries. Like a zombie she's randomly feeling any fruit and putting it mechanically into her mouth without watching at them. I think, if anyone puts something inedible in the bowl, she'll probably swallow having no idea what she is doing. Her reflection in the pear-formed coffeepot looks wavy and weird.

"I have to do the potion again," Astrid sighs, "...and an antidote for her mushroom situation. I think we are lack of calendula extract and little leaf linden flowers."

"We might have some in the attic. I'll have a look later. You can also add dry rosemary in the cauldron as well," advises grandma.

I am listening to them with my mouth open forgetting to eat. I've never heard them discussing of this matter. I turn to Billy, but she has already been lost for our morning company.

"What are you watching, dear?" inquires grandma to distract her granddaughter from the smartphone.

At home this kind of simple question might give birth to a thunderstorm. Mom would force her to eat without using any gadgets; Billy, in turn, would accuse her of checking her tablet and texting her coworkers during the breakfast. Mom would be furious explaining the importance of her work and "the visual confirmation" of Billy's "ingratitude and infancy" and Billy would...and so on and so forth, until it turns into Billy's crying face or Mom's door slamming.

I am a little bit tense expecting a verbal fight, and fear for grandma, for my elder sister is a tough nut to crack and an experienced war of wards warrior; but Billy raises her green eyes and speaks at last, dazzling us with her smile I know all too well. Which is exactly that smile she gives to deceive James and Denis: Billy's universal trap for grandparents. What kind of game is she playing?

My sister, all charm and sweetness, is moving her chair closer to grandma and introducing her to the show, and patiently explains the details, and laughs like a silver bell pointing at the most funny moment in the scene:

"« I didn't believe you! » Isn't it hilarious, granny?" Billy is repeating the main actor's line as if it's the funniest joke ever. She is obviously faking her interest in the conversation, but I can't prove it. When I lost my patience, I once tried to tell about it to Mom's parents, but they blamed me for being a mean and jealous girl.

The dishes don't seem as appealing and tasty as before. I'm fidgeting and squirming about, for I want the breakfast to be over, and I want to find the squirrel! Oh, I mean Nina (it would be hard to talk to her when she's not a girl). But to do that, I need to sneak out of here.

I have an idea. I take one of the empty plates and heading with it to the kitchen sink. Astrid seems to be engulfed in the show too, for she moved closer to the newly formed company of "best friends" and now listening to Billy too.

If I undertake the same maneuver like Nina, no one will notice my escape. I'm about to put my knee on the windowsill when Astrid notices my house break.

"Are you trying to become a squirrel?" Astrid giggles genuinely. There's no disappointment in her tone.

"I want to walk in the garden in case Nina makes up her mind to return," I'm trying hard not to betray myself and stay cool.

"Then don't forget to take some walnuts with you and stay away from the riverbank. The torrents are quite fast there."

"I won't go to the riverbank. I promise you!"

Of course, I will not, for I'm going to the forest.

The main character is crying something triumphantly, and all aunt's attention is focused on the show again.

I use the door this time. I'm such a chicken.

***

I delay maybe for a moment in the middle of the garden holding tightly a brown paper package of nuts. It's a safe place, our garden. Over there, across the resting field I have no guarantees. I understand how silly my thoughts and fears are: I've already been there with Astrid and Billy. The forest just seems hostile and gloomy, in fact, it's not so dense. Fifteen minutes or so and you are on the opposite side where one can find at least a dozen or so of neighboring villas and cultivated gardens.

It would be so great if Billy joined me, but no: there is a good chance Billy's wearing her last year clothes and show her outdated collection look to Alyssa.

I look at the house again. I can return any minute or stay in the garden. Nina could come later; tomorrow maybe?

"Hahahaaa! Astrid! You are sooo funny! Hahahahaha!" I distinctly hear Billy perfectly faking her laugh. It sounds naturally, but I know it's not. Only yesterday she was talking all those mean things about aunt, but now she's pretending to be a joyful sweetheart!

At first, I go in a measured fashion, without looking back. Then I quicken my step. Now I run like a whirlwind scaring a tiny flock of wagtails. They flutter up and land nearby bobbing their tails as if angrily.

I'm at the very rim of the forest. I feel the fresh coolness and the smell of fir needles, not the average for me. One quick glance at a resting layland and a bending "sleeve" of a glistening river.

Some neighbours are working in big greenhouses. They wave at me, and I bashfully wave back. Later they'll give an interview to a local newspaper telling the reporter that they were the last people who saw a stupid missing girl who had been lost in the forest...

"Just stop thinking about the silly nonsense. A small forest adventure won't hurt anybody," I say it aloud to ginger me up.

The forest looks darker than I thought. I find myself among tall and gruffy firs.

Nina might live in one of the houses on the opposite side of the forest. There are lots of people who work in the gardens; I can ask any of them. I'm sure they know Nina. She can't live in the knothole of the tree, can she? Shall I just call her? No, it's too silly to do it here.

I finally find a path and steal out to it moving gingerly.

"Oh, a beautiful young damsel! Have you got lost within these tremendous walls of trees?"

I almost jump out of my skin when I hear someone's question. Between the trees is a short man in a strange fur-coat which is too hairy and too warm for summer. The disgusting fur resembles the one of a hare. I try not to look at it taking my eyes off his hood with two long hare's ears. I hope it's an imitation!

"Do you need a guide? It's a dangerous forest for a little girl to walk in solitude," says a stranger.

His greenish face and head is covered with moss and little twigs are poking from the place his ears must be.

I was taught not to talk to strangers, and repeat Red Riding Hood story, "I'm fine. Thank you..."

I continue going (nervously thinking if it is time to run and panic) when hear his quizzical words, "I remember you, girl. You are Astrid's niece," the creature doesn't ask; he is sure.

I try not to pay attention to him and stride between toadstools and moss that look exactly the same as creature's beard and hair.

"Poor child, you should have hired me as your forest guide. Now beware of the witch's circles!"

I turn, but on the road I saw only a big cheeky hare that doesn't move fastening his eyes on me. I hastily continue my way. I am too far away to go back. The end of the forest must be very soon! I'm sure...

The thread of the naturally trampled down footpath is getting thinner and less visible between roots, soft moss, and some old rotten stumps that are decorated with honey funguses.

The witch's circles? What does it mean? Are there real witches somewhere in the forest?

On either side of me there are growing pale death cap mushrooms. When I stop abruptly, I realize I'm in the middle of their circle.