Yur

On this night, there are many legends about a flower growing on a fern. Every young person wants to find it, so that all the secrets and treasures of the world would be revealed to him, but no one has ever found it.

• Oh, your wreath is beautiful! I think this year your betrothed will fish out your wreath - your friend's voice brought you out of your thoughts. In your hands was a wreath of daisies and cornflowers. Every year your wreath sank or floated further down the river, saying that you would be alone forever, but you did not despair and hoped that your betrothed was simply not there yet. The girls were already standing on the shore and throwing their wreaths, and you looked at yours and doubted. Something in your soul strongly resisted, but you still came up and threw the wreath into the water.

The dark water carried the various wreaths of the girls along the current. For the first time in a couple of years, your wreath did not sink, but floated further and ahead of everyone else, which was a good sign. Your friend took your hand: - You see... It does not sink, which means your betrothed is here today - she whispered tenderly, stroking your hand, but a second later, shock appeared on her face.

You turned to where your friend was looking and saw that your wreath had been fished out by someone you hadn't expected at all - Yur, the blacksmith's son. He was handsome, but he hated you so much for some unknown reason and didn't hide it. It was his first time at the party and he immediately fished out your wreath. His hand was fingering the daisies and cornflowers, and then he began to look at the girls. His gaze didn't stop at any of them, but suddenly stopped at you. Looking into your eyes, he put the wreath on his head and smiled.