Above the reeds, dragonflies drew blue loops in the air, and the water sang with soft splashing, as if someone were stroking the back of the stones. Lili, the curious little otter, glided on the water's surface, turning on her belly and listening. The river always had something to say. Sometimes it chatted, sometimes hummed, sometimes grumbled among the driftwoods lying on the bank. Now, however, something felt wrong. The current grew slower, the song more uncertain, as if the river forgot how to laugh.

Rusty, the red squirrel, sat on the willow leaning over the bank, and held his tail with two paws, lest it hang into the water.

Speckles, the spotted tree frog, made a big jump from a reed stalk, and splash! - landed before Lili.

Marble, the grey heron, whose leg was long like the river's thoughts, stepped into the shallows with careful steps.

The company set off. The winding river showed the way; on the bank, broom bushes whispered together, and the birds chirped as if seeking to draw a map with sound. Lili sometimes glided underwater among the dense roots of the sedge, sometimes popped up for air and made an otter grimace at Rusty. The squirrel, of course, jumping from branch to branch, laughed and was not shy about teasing either.

If we proceed like this, by evening we'll easily find trouble - he shouted, then suddenly disappeared behind a lacy wild rose bush.

Hey! - Rusty's voice called out. - This is a thorny tunnel!

Lili laughed, and with a light movement submerged under the bush. Speckles conjured a flat leaf from among the nearby leaves, like a small shield, and with it pushed aside the thorns, so the squirrel could climb through. Meanwhile, Marble adjusted the branches of the wild rose with his long beak, like a gardener who understands the language of thorns.

They proceeded farther. An overturned old willow stood in their way, clinging to the water with its roots. The current growled there, confused and defiant. Lili swam around the tree and realized that a tunnel led through underneath it.

I'll go through this - she grinned.

I'll go on top - Rusty cut in, and already climbed up.

Speckles stretched nervously at the water's edge.

On the other side, the sound of the water was even weaker. The stream water became warm, and among the stones, tiny puddles remained. Lili's heart clenched when she saw a struggling snail, which balanced on its slime trail.

I'll take you back - she whispered to the snail, and carefully pushed it into deeper water. The snail gratefully released a bubble.

The river really is stuck - Marble stated, while his beak made a clashing sound on a flat pebble. - Over there, do you hear?

Ahead of them, some strange buzzing was heard, not the old, well-known splashing. It had the sound of something else: like when someone puts leaves into too big a pile, and then they all slide at once.

After the next turn, the secret unraveled. A new lake sprawled in the valley; on its smooth, mirror-like surface, water lilies sat, and on the bank, white wounds of freshly chewed tree stumps gleamed.

In the middle of the dam stood a brown, stubby-eared beaver, his incisors as yellow as summer corn grains. Next to him, smaller beavers hurried here and there, as if preparing for some secret celebration.

The big beaver proudly pulled himself up.

I am Stubby - he said. - And this is our lake. At night, ahem... we worked hard. We only held back the water a little bit, to have a home.

I think not just a little bit - Speckles shook his head, who peeked through the gaps of the dam. - The water barely reaches my ankles down there.

Marble bent down and examined the side of the dam.

Stubby frowned and picked at chips stuck between his claws.

We just built, as our hearts dictated. We didn't want trouble.

We don't look for trouble either - said Lili softly. - Only the river's laughter. If we found a way for the water to find its way back downstream, and your little lake remained too, everyone would fare well.

Allowing? - Stubby raised his eyebrow. - I haven't tried such a thing yet.

Rusty jumped to the top of the dam, and with his tail drew a stripe on the wet branches.

What if we opened a small channel here? Not big, just big enough for the water to splash again.

And the side branch must be freed from the reeds too - added Marble. - Then the water will have two ways. It will be like a new song with a refrain.

Stubby looked at the drawn stripe, then at the little beavers, who curiously pulled their whiskers.

They set to work. At the edge of the dam, Lili and Rusty carefully pulled out a few thinner branches, like when someone pulls out a single thread from a woven basket. Speckles stuck his head into every tiny gap, and croaking, he reported:

Marble placed his long legs firmly on the pebbles, and with his beak picked out the stuck reed stalks from the side branch's entrance. Meanwhile, Stubby moved bigger pieces, and for every branch taken out, adjusted two from the side, so the dam wouldn't lose its strength.

When the first thin jet flowed through the gap, the water sighed, as if someone had scratched its back in just the right spot. The stream down there began to snicker cheerfully, and from among the pebbles, small fish popped up to try the new current.

In the next moment, the jet widened, and the current caught Lili. She spun, stumbled; the world became a blur of water bubbles and light for a moment. Rusty, who watched, with lightning speed caught a flexible willow switch and lowered it.

Lili's paw touched the switch, but slipped out. Just then, Stubby with a single big splash threw himself into the water, and with his side supported Lili, like a moving rock. Together they clung to the willow switch, and Speckles helped them towards the bank with brave croaking, as if his voice were a rope.

Thank you - panted Lili, when they reached the shore. The water already trickled evenly through the small channel, and the side branch had freed up and started to live again.

It seems to have succeeded - said Marble, satisfied. - The lake remained, and the stream got its laughter back.

Stubby bowed, as much as a beaver could.

Today I learned a new word - he mumbled. - Allowing. Not meaning that I give up, but that I make room for others, too.

And I learned that - glittered Lili's eyes - that the river not only carries water, but stories, too. Today, your story met mine.

The sun climbed high and spread light stripes on the water. The friends settled down on a flat stone. Rusty crunched a hazelnut, Speckles warmed his freckled belly, Marble balanced on one leg because that was comfortable for him, and Stubby took a smooth pebble between his front paws.

I'll put this here on top of the dam - he said. - If the water covers it, the lake is too high. If it's visible, everything is okay. So I'll pay attention.

Then I'll come every week to listen to the river's voice - winked Lili. - If it grows quiet, I'll know where to knock.

The stream sang again. Not like before, but a little differently: now, friendly voices sounded in it too. Among the splashing, sometimes a cheerful frog's croak jumped in, sometimes a squirrel's laughter tinkled, and sometimes, very softly, a beaver's grateful sigh mixed into the water's song.

That afternoon, the reeds were like a theater curtain that rolled up again. The river laughed, the stones smiled, and the blue loops of the dragonflies drew the line of the new story all the way into the distance. Lili turned on her back, and rocking in the water, listened as the river talked again. Not smartly, not loudly, only quietly enough. Just quietly enough for whoever paid attention to understand.