A long time ago, in the deeps of a vast forest, there was a tree.
Not a common tree, for its branches were made of the purest silver that shone in the sun, sparkling and charming all the creatures that lived in its surroundings. The leaves of the tree were coloured with the most beautiful tone of green. The fruits of this magical plant looked so sweet and delicious at sight, for no living creature had ever tasted a bit of that golden treasure.
It was said that the moon fell in love with the earth and the tree was their beloved son.
Of all of the animals that inhabited the forest, only a snake was smart enough to climb the tree and make of the tall and silvery branches her home, for she wanted to look the sun and all the immensity of the forest. And so, she did.
She was proud of herself for being that brave, and when she made it to the top of the tree and tasted the first sunlight on her skin, power and glory grew up inside of her.
Her long and silky body was coiled through the beauty of the branches, which in time made her scales as silvery as the tree.
No other animal tried to defy her and make her go down of the tree, even though most of them were glad that their friend had succeeded.
Most of them but the boar who lived at the bottom of the tree.
He was jealous of the glory that his former friend had achieved, and he wanted a taste of it no matter at what cost.
The boar was covered in mud and dirt, and his hoofs were clumsy and unable to climb. Every time he looked up, he saw with envious eyes at the snake.
One night of a full moon, the boar secretly gathered with some of the strongest animals in the forest: the bull, the cougar, the scorpion and the hawk. Although some of them were friends with the snake, they were tired to have to look up to the tree in order to speak to her. They wanted to talk as equals.
Soon enough, the boar convinced the animals to bring down the tree and the snake along with it. And so, they did.
The sound the tree made was loud and strepitous when it fell, making the silver glow to disappear and thus making it a regular tree.
They were successful, but in the process they had killed the snake and all of their children that also lived in the tree. Then, the legend of the moon was no longer a myth, for the white queen of the night turned red and cast a curse on those who had killed her son. They would have to pay for it in perpetuity.
