Legend

Essen Jara’s Serpent came to her unbidden one spring and coiled itself around a wild rose bush. Its scales were patterned so intricately in pale designs that among the flowers it was easy to mistake it for an ornament.

One summer a bold warrior from the valley rode through the forest. He had been told the shamaness of the woods was dangerous, but what he saw was a beautiful woman with a garland in her hair.

“You’re the one the whole forest fears?” he laughed. “Throw down those herbs and ride with me.”

Essen looked at him the way one looks at a gnat that doesn’t yet know where it has settled.

“Leave while you still can.”

The warrior leapt from his horse and reached deep into the bush for the loveliest rose to give her. The serpent shot out from among the petals and sank its fangs into his hand.

His arm swelled to the elbow, and all night he shook with fever. Essen laid a poultice of herbs on the wound. He lived, but two dark marks stayed on his hand for the rest of his days.

“In the forest, everything most beautiful has thorns or fangs,” said Essen. “Whoever sees only beauty will never see the danger.”

The Serpent stayed with Essen Jara, coiled around the rose by her door. Whoever came with a bold smile lost it before they had passed that bush.