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Once upon a time, there was a mother and her two children. They lived in a simple hut

nestled in a beautiful forest, a long way from the nearest town. While they weren't a

wealthy family, they had everything they needed to be comfortable. Their hut was sturdy

and kept them dry during the rainstorms that passed in autumn. They had a fireplace and

plenty of kindling, so they were always warm, even during the coldest winters.

On a wooded path, not far away, was a wide, rushing river. There, they caught fish to bring

home for supper, and the mother grew herbs, which she sold at the market in town.

The children were playful and loved their mother very much, and she loved them more than

all the world, and wanted the very best for them. One day, the children were playing outside,

when it started to get very windy. The pine needles rustled on their branches, and the tree

trunks creaked as they swade slowly back and forth. The wind blew harder and harder. The

whisper of the trees turned into a roar. It had been years since these mighty pines had dropped

their cones, but it was time for new saplings to grow. And so, like raindrops falling to

the ground, they let go of their pine cones, which tumbled to the earth below.

The children, who had never seen the cones fall before, ran to inspect one up close. It

was small and hard, with tiny spikes on each one of its rough little nubs. The girl picked

it up and held it in her hand.

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