A woman named Gretel lived in a cottage at the end of a stony path high in the mountains. In the summer, it was perfect — sweet breezes, spectacular sunsets, flowers from a nearby meadow. Bounty from her small garden, a brown cow and a sturdy apple tree fed her, along with bread she made every morning.

Winter was hard. Though she chopped wood and collected fallen branches from the forest, her little house was cold. She had a store of supplies — flour, sugar, butter, beans, oats — but the days were dreary. She was far from town and lacked close neighbors. She felt lonely.

As Christmas approached, Gretel decorated her small cottage. She cut a small tree from the forest and decorated it with red ribbons and dried flowers. She put candles in her windows. She mixed flour, sweet butter and sugar together and baked shortbread cookies. And then, she did what she always did — she prepared a feast for the forest animals. Cut apples, walnuts she’d gathered in the fall, sunflower seeds, stale bread she’d saved. She cleared snow in front of her house and put the food in the clearing.

On Christmas Eve, Gretel lit the candles and settled down in front of her fireplace. Every now and then, she glanced outside. Gretel was dozing by the fire when she heard an odd sound. Something was scratching against the door. She looked out the window and her eyes widened. “Oh my!”

A stag with magnificent antlers stood outside. Gretel opened the door and he limped in and settled in front of the fire. Gretel saw that his hind leg was wounded and she bathed it, gently dressing the wound. In the morning, she dug under an oak tree to gather fallen acorns for him to eat. She fed him some of the cow’s hay. Instead of leading him to the barn, she allowed him to recuperate by the fire, which she tended day and night, until her wood dwindled to almost nothing.

Through Christmas and for 12 days and 12 nights, the stag rested and Gretel cared for him, changing the bandage, cleaning the wound, feeding him acorns and hay. He was beautiful, his dark brown eyes gentle. Not once did he start or kick. Patiently, he endured Gretel’s healing treatments.

At the end of the 12th day, the stag rose and walked to the door. His wound was healed and his limp gone. Gretel opened the door and he walked through, stopping in the front yard to look back at Gretel. “Stay safe,” she whispered under her breath as he bounded into the forest.

Gretel placed the last log on her fire. Her store of wood was depleted. She fed her cow the last of the hay. Gretel snuggled under the covers with a hot cup of tea and wondered what she would do. She fell into a restless sleep, worrying how she would manage.

The next morning when Gretel awoke, the fire was still blazing. She walked to the barn. Though she’d seen the cow eat the hay she placed in the manger, the manger was still full.

Throughout the winter, Gretel’s one log continued to blaze and heat her house. The manger remained full of hay, no matter how much the cow ate and Gretel was thankful.

For every Christmas after, Gretel put food in the front yard for the forest animals and lit candles in her front window, hoping the stag might return.

She didn’t see him, but every year on Christmas morning, she found three perfect acorns at her front door.

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