Hare?
What kind of a place is this?
It feels familiar but also strange.
Wait . . . we’re in a fairytale!
I’d started working my way down the hillside . . .
Is this your subconscious, Ulrike?
I took five mini bottles with me from the Eagle’s Nest . . . Spezialitäten aus den Bergen . . . And I drank them on the way . . . But I don’t know anything about this!
Anke-Marie of Berchtesgaden took Ulrike to a birch grove and showed her how to gather tinder fungus. When they had enough of the fungus, they returned to the shelter. Anke-Marie began to dig the leathery hearts out from under the hard crust and pores of the fungi with a knife. Then she submerged the hearts in boiling water full of birch ash and mixed it all together. When the fungi had boiled long enough, she took them out and left them in the sun to dry. “But you can’t let the tinder get too dry or you have to wet it down again. It needs to be damp, slightly wet, or it won’t cooperate.”
Anke-Marie began to club the wet tinder fungus. She clubbed so hard she began to sweat large beads of perspiration which rolled down and stung her eyes until she couldn’t see. Then Ulrike said, “Let me do it so you can rest.”
Taking turns through the hottest part of the day, they beat the tinder fungus and bathed in sweat. They beat until the fungus gave up, stopped blistering, and became a flat, even disk. After this Anke-Marie took Ulrike by the hand and showed her how to strike a spark with the right amount of force on the right corner of a flint with a steel. Ulrike struck the stone with the steel. She struck many times and was beginning to lose patience because her strength was waning.
Then Anke-Marie came behind her, right up close, took her by the arms, and they struck the stone together. They struck once, twice, three times, and then came the spark, which the tinder fungus trapped. Anke-Marie set the glowing tinder in an abandoned bird’s nest, which she had found in the forest, and the dry wood stacked above quickly burst into flames.
This was how Ulrike of Salzburg learned to make fire.
By the time they had dined heartily on the hare they had roasted over the fire and rolled over to sleep on their bed of pine boughs, she had learned her second lesson: she had learned to trust another person.
Early in the morning, as the first rays of sun tickled the ends of the sleeping girls’ noses, Ulrike awoke in Anke-Marie’s arms and felt wondrously happy. In triumph she raised her right hand to her face and whispered, “Look, light blue!”
The ring in her finger glowed blue, but Anke-Marie didn’t look happy. “Ulrike of Salzburg, it is blue, but not light blue. You’re relaxed, and that does mean you’re happy, but deep bliss, which is also called love, is something you still haven’t experienced.”
Ulrike turned her gaze to Anke-Marie and, in a slightly weepy voice, said, “I think it’s closer to light blue than dark.” But Anke-Marie of Berchtesgaden was unyielding. “Dear Ulrike, I know what you’re thinking,” she whispered to her new friend. “You want to stay here with me because we get along so well. But you have to continue your journey if you want to continue seeking the treasure of love. Otherwise you’ll begin to hate me eventually. Come back if you don’t find what you seek. I’ll be waiting for you here.”
The girls cried and kissed each other. The stone on the ring had turned pitch black by the time Ulrike of Salzburg waved goodbye and turned to continue on her way. Her mind full of questions, she climbed the forest path until she finally reached the top of the mountain. There stood a large building made of concrete with a massive brass lion-head knocker bolted to the door.
Ulrike took hold of the knocker: thunk, thunk, thunk. The ring burned yellow and red in turn. After only a few seconds, the door opened. Behind it stood a hunched, frightening-looking man, who said, “Good day, Ulrike of Salzburg. Please, come in.”
Ulrike was shocked, but she stepped into the dimly lit room because she didn’t know what else to do. Elders were to be obeyed, her grandmother had taught her long ago, and the Adelwolf was obviously older than her. His ears were large and hairy, and his hands were enormous and completely covered in dark fur. His mouth was as immense as an ocean ship, and his eyes gaped like a giant’s dinner plates under his jagged bangs. His right pupil moved actively, while the left was glazed in place.
“I have venison stew to offer, and I’m sure you’re hungry since you’ve walked such a long way. Might we share a meal?” the Adelwolf suggested. Ulrike agreed, because she was ravenously hungry.
As they ate, Ulrike noticed that the Adelwolf’s right eye repeatedly glanced at the finger on her right hand where she wore her handsome ring. The stone was red now, and the Adelwolf asked, “Ulrike of Salzburg, why are you restless?”
Ulrike of Salzburg was so embarrassed she was speechless. The red of the ring deepened. Then the Adelwolf said, “Here, let me try the ring. It should fit on my pinkie. Let’s see what kind of mood I’m in right now!”
Ulrike was startled at this, and the ring turned black. How could the Adelwolf know the secret of the ring? And what should she do now? Grandmother had made her promise to keep good care of it, but Grandmother had also instructed her to obey her elders. What if the Adelwolf wouldn’t give the ring back to her? Then she would be ruined!
Fortunately
