From the Forest's Journal

The Ribbon Had Other Ideas

Hanging the star-map is Miri’s job. The ribbon has plans of its own.

Kittelfdora Village at dusk, tree houses glowing among giant trees, with one long silver ribbon draped over a mossy branch and a rolled star-map waiting beside it.

Miri stands at the foot of a huge village oak at dusk with a rolled star-map under one arm and a big coil of silver ribbon in her hand, looking up at how tall the tree is.

Tonight was lantern night.

Once a year the whole village puts its lights up together.

Every branch, every bridge, every window.

Miri's job was the star-map, the biggest one of all.

It had to go up before dark.

Miri looks up at the top of the tall oak, planning, while the long silver ribbon quietly slides and uncoils off her lowered arm onto the moss behind her, completely unnoticed.

Miri had two hands and one long silver ribbon.

"I can do it myself," said Miri.

The ribbon was already sliding out of her hand.

So Miri sat down and made a plan.

Miri reads a small three-step list, a wooden ladder leaning on the trunk beside her, a coil of silver ribbon at her feet.

Miri's plan had three steps. She read it twice.

Step one: tie the ribbon.

Step two: climb the ladder.

Step three: hang the map, perfectly straight.

(Between us: I liked this plan. Watch step one.)

Ori sits cross legged on the wooden footbridge polishing a lantern jar, with a long row of finished glowing jars lined up beside him along the planks.

Down on the bridge, Ori had a job too.

Every lantern jar in the village had to be polished.

Ori's jars were all done and lined up in a row.

He was humming.

Miri kneels on the moss at the foot of the huge oak at dusk. The rolled star-map is spread open in front of her, dark blue and covered in glowing constellations, and she has caught hold of one loose end of the long silver ribbon and is holding it out, about to tie it on. A wooden ladder leans against the trunk behind her.

To hang a star-map you tie a ribbon to each end.

Then you tie the other ends to a branch.

Miri picked up the ribbon and found the first end.

Fwip.

Miri stands on the little ladder, reaching up to tie the silver ribbon around a mossy branch, tongue poking out in concentration. The same ribbon has already looped twice around her own wrist.

Miri tied the ribbon to the map.

Then she tied it to the branch.

Then she tied it to her own wrist.

That last one was not in the plan.

Fwip.

Miri holds up her own wrist and blinks at the ribbon wound around it, perfectly composed. A tiny round beetle sits on the branch beside her, watching. The star-map has lifted barely a finger off the ground.

Miri pulled. The map went up one finger.

Then her wrist came with it, so the map came back down.

"I can do it myself," said Miri. "I can still do it myself."

A beetle came out to watch.

Miri did not look at her wrist.

Miri stands very straight with the silver ribbon wound around both arms and looped over one soft ear so it folds down flat, holding on to her dignity.

So Miri tried again, faster.

Faster meant more ribbon in the air.

It went round one arm.

Then round the other arm. Then round one soft ear.

Fwip. Fwip.

Ori walks past on the wooden walkway with an armful of glowing lantern jars, calling out cheerfully with his eyes down on the jars. Just behind him, against the big mossy trunk, Miri is a Miri-shaped bundle of silver ribbon with only her face and one hand free.

Quick, look at Miri. The ribbon has gone round and round her, like a parcel.

Yes. That is the problem.

Ori went past with an armful of jars.

"Looking good!" he called, and walked straight by without looking at her.

"I can do it myself," said Miri, from inside the ribbon.

The wind has caught the star-map and it is bellying out overhead like a ship's sail. The long silver ribbon tied to it is being dragged along with it, whipping round and round the oak trunk in loops and winding across Miri's shoulder and waist as it goes. Miri is up on her toes, laughing and startled at once, braids and leaves streaming sideways.

Then the wind came.

The map went up like a sail and pulled the whole ribbon with it.

Round and round the oak it went, and round Miri too.

Miri went up on her toes.

FWIP. FWIP. FWOOP.

Miri wrapped in loops of silver ribbon against the oak trunk, with the star-map and a tipped wooden ladder bound up in the same ribbon. A tiny beetle perches serenely high on one loop. Miri looks comically unbothered.

When the wind stopped, this was tied to the oak:

one map, one ladder, one beetle, and one Miri.

Miri was wrapped from her ears to her boots.

The beetle did not mind. It had a wonderful view.

"This tree," said Miri, "is doing this on purpose."

A quiet pink evening. Miri sits at the base of the trunk in the ribbon loops, ears flat, looking down at her own toes, with the star-map unrolled on the moss.

Now the quiet part.

Miri stopped pulling.

Her ears went flat. She looked at her toes.

The sky was going pink and the map was still on the ground.

Ori stretches up on tiptoe to hook his last glowing jar on a branch. His eyes are on the jar, but one of his soft feline ears is turned right around and pointed behind him, listening.

One step away, Ori hung his last jar.

He was still humming.

One of his ears was pointed her way.

Close on Miri's face. Her big violet eyes are wide and hopeful, glancing up and sideways, and her mouth is just beginning to open. One loop of silver ribbon crosses her shoulder.

Miri opened her mouth. Then she closed it.

Then she opened it again.

"Ori?" she said. Very small. "Help?"

(Whisper it with her if you want to. As small as you can. Help?)

Ori is caught mid-hop, already arriving, grinning wide, reaching for the loose end of the silver ribbon. Miri, still wound against the trunk, watches him come with a small surprised smile.

Ori was there in one hop.

"I heard that," said Ori. "I have very good ears."

He did not ask what happened. He did not laugh.

He picked up the other end of the ribbon.

"Two ends!" said Ori. "That is one each."

Miri and Ori stand facing each other, one holding each end of the long silver ribbon. For the first time it runs straight and taut between them, with the star-map rising up the oak behind.

Miri held her end. Ori held his.

For the first time all evening, the ribbon went straight.

Up went the star-map. Up, and up, and straight.

"That took one hop," said Miri. "I pulled at it all evening."

"You only had to ask," said Ori. "That is the whole trick."

Night in the lit village. Lantern jars glow everywhere among the trees and the star-map hangs shining above the footbridge with one crooked corner and one small beetle still aboard.

By dark, every lantern in the village was in its place.

The star-map hung above the bridge with the ribbon holding it.

One corner was crooked. The beetle was still on it.

Then Ori lit the first jar, and the whole village came on at once.

Close on Miri and Ori kneeling together in the lantern light, heads tilted toward each other, tying one final bow with one hand each.

The very last knot needed two hands, one on each end.

It got two. One of Miri's. One of Ori's.

"Miri?" said Ori. "Do ribbons dream?"

"I think so," said Miri.

"About long, straight dreams. With somebody holding each end."

Every ribbon has two ends. Miri’s has two knots now.

Somewhere near you there is a string. A shoelace works too.

Tomorrow, hold one end. Hand the other end to somebody.

For grown-ups