It's a warm morning in the forest. The sun pats the leaves. The path is soft and smells of needles. Tilda, a small turtle with a shiny, green shell, rolls her red wagon. The wagon's string is tied with a yellow ribbon that flutters like a small butterfly.

On a stone sits Sigge Snail and sighs. Next to him lies a big, red apple.

– Oh no, says Sigge. My apple is too heavy. I'll never get to the glade.

Tilda stops the wagon and smiles.

– We'll carry it together, she says. Your speed and my wagon.

They push the apple up into the wagon. It lands with a 'thunk,' but it lies steady.

Further ahead, the spruce rustles. Sassa Squirrel jumps, her tail like a soft brush.

– My pinecones fall everywhere! calls Sassa. I want to take them to the berry party!

– Put them in the wagon, says Tilda. We're already a small train.

Sassa lets the pinecones tumble down into the wagon. Plink, plink. They smell of forest.

They roll forward. Birds sing. A blue feather flies by like a wave. Soon they hear a babbling laugh. It's the stream. The water glitters and talks. But the bridge – the small plank – is gone. Only two stumps remain, like two empty shoes.

On the other side stand Hoppe Hare, Disa Duck, and three perky hedgehog cubs with baskets full of berries.

– How shall we get across? calls Hoppe and bounces a little from nervousness.

– I can't fly, quacks Disa, and the cubs quack with her.

Tilda steps closer to the water. It feels cool on her toes. She listens. Glug, glug. She looks at the stones along the edge. They're flat and gray, like sleeping pancakes.

– We'll build a path, says Tilda. A stone path across the water.

Everyone nods. Sassa bounces away and finds small, round stones. Hoppe rolls a big, heavy stone. Sigge licks his antennae and steers the small stones right with his snail power. Tilda pushes with forehead and back. The wagon's wheels creak as it helps push a stone forward. Thunk. Splash. Thunk. Stone by stone, they place a pattern across the stream.

– One step, says Tilda and tests with her foot.

– Two steps, says Sassa and places a pinecone as a marker.

– Three steps! calls Hoppe and hops so the ears dance.

Only one step is missing. The distance is just a little too long.

Tilda looks at her round shell. She smiles.

– I can be a stone with legs, she says.

She steps down into the water, slowly and firmly. It's cold, but her shell is warm inside. She sits steadily between two big stones.

– Walk carefully, says Tilda. One at a time.

Hoppe goes first. Tip, tap. He puts his paw on Tilda's shell.

– Steady, he says softly. Thank you, Tilda.

Disa follows with her little ones. They quack low. Small duck feet patter like small applause.

– Nice bridge, says Disa and winks.

The hedgehog cubs go last. They giggle and whisper.

– Tilda is our friend-stone, says one.

When everyone is across, Hoppe and Sassa help Tilda up from the stream. They dry her with warm leaves. The sun licks away the last drops. Sigge finds a wide leaf and fans a little. Disa hangs her blue ribbon on the wagon's handle as thanks.

– Done! calls Sassa. Now there's Tilda's Path across the stream!

They walk together to the glade. There the air smells of sweet berries and freshly picked herbs. The tables are built of stumps. Someone places blueberries on strings like small pearls. Everyone helps each other. Hoppe pours juice for the smallest. Sigge wipes away jam that drips. Sassa shares her extra pinecones and makes a pinecone game. Tilda rolls, fetches, and makes a soft place with mosses for a tired hedgehog cub.

– For Tilda! someone calls. Three cheers!

– Hooray, hooray, hooray! the forest calls back.

In the evening, when the shadows grow long and the ants clean after the party, the stones remain in the stream and glitter. The wind pulls the wagon's yellow ribbon tight. Tilda takes one last round with her wagon.

– If someone calls for help, she says quietly, then we'll roll.

And the wagon rolls, light and kind, on the path that now knows how it feels when someone helps out.