Once upon a time there lived an old witch. She walked around the world, looked for little children and ate them. One day she was walking through the forest and at the foot of the mountain in a large clearing she saw a shepherdess with a herd of goats. The shepherd boy was a handsome, healthy boy.
The witch came up to him and said:
- May your life be long, son! Get me some fruit from this tree.
- How can I get it if I don’t know how to climb trees? - the boy answered.
“Stand with your foot on a dry branch, and grab the green one with your hand,” said the witch.
The boy obeyed and, when he climbed the tree, did as the witch taught him. But as soon as he stood with his foot on a dry branch, it immediately broke. And the witch was already standing under the tree with an open bag, and the boy fell straight into it. The witch quickly tied the bag and went home.
The boy was heavy, and the road went uphill. The witch was tired and thirsty. She saw a stream to the side, left the bag with the boy on the road and went to drink water.
And at that time a traveler was passing along the road. The boy heard footsteps and shouted from the bag:
- Save me! Save! A witch caught me and wants to eat me. Let me out of the bag!
The passerby untied the bag. The boy got out and put a wasp's nest in the bag. The witch returned, picked up the bag and moved on.
She came home. I met her daughter and asked what was in the bag.
“I brought good meat for you,” the witch answered and gave the bag to her daughter.
She wanted to untie him immediately.
- No no! - the witch shouted. - Take him into the house, you will untie him there, otherwise he will run away.
My daughter brought the bag into the house, untied it and began shaking it out. Wasps flew out of the bag, pounced on her and began to sting. The daughter rushed to her mother screaming.
- What's happened? - asked the witch.
“Don’t you see that wasps bit me!” — the daughter complained. “And you said that you brought good meat.”
The witch realized that the shepherd had deceived her. The next day the witch again took her bag and left the house. And again I met the same shepherdess.
“Son,” the witch told him, “I’m hungry.” Pluck me some fruit from the tree.
“I won’t,” answered the boy. “You, old woman, came here yesterday too.”
“No, boy, look: I have gold teeth, but yesterday’s old woman didn’t have those.”
“I don’t know how to climb trees, I’ll fall.”
“Don’t be afraid,” said the witch. “Stand with your feet on the green branches, and hold on to the dry ones with your hands.”
The boy climbed the tree. The branches immediately broke off, and he flew down with a noise. Again he ended up in the witch's bag.
She was delighted:
- Nowadays I won’t miss such a tasty prey! The witch put the bag on her back and carried it home. The road went past the village. The witch had to go there on some business. Not far from the road, a plowman was working in the field. The witch asked him to guard her bag, and she went to the village. The boy waited until the witch walked away and shouted:
- Hey, brother plowman, let me out of the bag! I will help you plow and spread manure across the field.
The plowman released him, and the boy threw earth and stones into the bag.
The witch returned, put the bag on her back and walked on. The stones in the bag hurt her back.
- Damned boy! Apparently he rested his knees on my back. Wait, you will soon end up in my cauldron! - she scolded under her breath.
The witch came home. Her daughter untied the bag, shook it out, and earth and stones fell out of it. The witch gnashed her teeth in anger:
- The boy ran away again! Well, just wait! Today you managed to hide from me, but tomorrow I will definitely eat you!
On the third day, the witch again found the same shepherd.
- Son, pick me some fruit from the tree!
- I won’t! — the boy laughed. “This is not the first time you’ve come here.”
“No,” said the witch, “you were mistaken.” After all, I am related to your mother.
“I don’t know how to climb trees,” the boy began to refuse. “I’ll fall again.”
“You won’t fall,” the witch insisted. “I will hold your feet from below.”
The boy climbed the tree. And the witch pulled him by the legs and hid him in a bag. No matter how much the boy screamed, she tied the bag tightly and headed home.
This time she didn’t stop anywhere along the way. The witch came home, gave the bag to her daughter and said:
“Well, now I’ve brought it.” You and I will eat plenty today. For now, go ahead and cook, and I’ll be back soon.
The witch left, and the daughter untied the bag and released the boy. The boy began to cajole her with affectionate words, and then said:
“You’re probably tired of pounding rice.” I'll help you. Give me the pestle, and pour the rice from the mortar yourself.
He took the pestle from her and got to work. Having waited until the witch's daughter bent over the mortar, the boy hit her on the head with all his might with the pestle. She fell down dead, and the boy took off and ran home.
The witch returned and saw her dead daughter near the stupa. It was then that she learned what maternal grief was. For the first time in her life she had to experience this herself. She cried bitter tears; It seemed that she herself was about to die from grief. And from that very day the witch forever stopped catching and eating small children.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru