As I’ve said, we've been traveling for a week or so.

Kids didn't rush and enjoyed the journey to the fullest.

From time to time they would wander into berry bushes and wouldn't move from there until everything was eaten.

The forest has many such meadows with all kinds of berries and shrubs covered by hazelnuts.

While going in such a relaxed way, we’ve come across a dead tree.

It is so thick that even three of me holding hands together won't be able to circle it. And it is so tall, that even if five of me were put on the shoulders of one another, we wouldn't be able to reach its top.

It doesn't have any branches; it just has a dried up trunk. Even the bark has mostly fallen off, leaving the duramen open to the rain and sun.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Neil (that is the one with fire; I’ve managed to get their names from the past days' conversations. By the way, the misty one is called Olly.) So. Neil solemnly examines the tree and finds a place where a part of the trunk is cleft by something. He takes out a knife and starts prying the fissure. To my surprise, at this moment, the large part of the trunk easily separates from the rest of the stock. It falls off, and we see the insides of the tree covered by light-yellow substance. A low buzz comes from over it. Honey!

Yes, without a doubt, it's a hive.

Neil carefully cuts out a big slab of a honeycomb. It is so large that it is hard to hold. He passes it to Olly and slowly puts ‘the door’ of the hive back to its place.

The honey is, well, it is just the way you can imagine it; and the boys return to the road cheerfully chewing on it and licking fingers.