Dawn of LegendFiction

By LegendFiction

An anthology three years in the making... Discover forty-three epic, humorous, ominous, whimsical, and fantastical stories curated from LegendFiction's contest finalists and honorable mentions. Immerse yourself in the worlds of:

• Fairy Tales: Old stories told with new twists, or new adventures in wry and fabled worlds.
• Mythic T

• Language: English
• Publisher: LegendFiction
• Release date: Mar 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869147219

Book preview

Fairy Tales 2022

LegendFiction invited authors and teens to create fairy stories, from all cultures and writing styles, originals or retellings. We asked them to avoid over-told fairy tales, or consider a new spin. Enjoy the first place finalists, and our honorable mentions.

The Blacksmith & the Firebird

Loreena Shannon

Once upon a time, beyond the thrice-ninth land in the thrice-tenth kingdom, there was a village nestled high in the mountains. It had once been very prosperous but fell on hard times. The people whispered of a curse. Drought killed their crops. Famine killed their livestock. The mountains withheld their precious ore.

Semyon the Blacksmith still diligently worked at his forge. He tried to make the farmers better scythes and plowshares. He tried to make horseshoes for the wild horses they would capture from the steppe. He tried to make pickaxes for the miners so that they could dig deeper into the mountain. Always, when he turned to temper the iron, it would shatter.

What will become of us? he cried. Nature was cruel, and now Father Frost will kill us with cold. The fire of my forge is too weak. If I cannot make tools, we cannot work the land. If we cannot work the land, we cannot eat. May the winter take us quickly to spare us the suffering!

Day after day, Semyon worked at his forge, but he failed to make any tools the villagers could use. He was about to douse his coals when a blast of heat blew in from behind him on a gust of wind. He turned to look and saw the form of a firebird upon the stone. Her magnificent plumage glowed like a strong flame, but her body was weak and panting for breath.

Help me, she pleaded. A man hunts me, and I can go no further. Let me hide in your forge. Do this for me, and whatever is within my power, I will grant you.

Semyon helped the firebird to roost in the forge and pumped the bellows until the fire was as high as he could get it. A single brilliant tail feather remained on the floor. Semyon picked it up and took it into his small cottage.

In the morning, a stranger arrived. He was a tall youth, richly dressed in furs and fine cloth. Semyon hammered away at his work while the firebird remained hidden among the coals. The stranger called out to him.

I am Prince Ivan, and my father is King Vasily. Have you seen the great firebird that flew this way? I have traveled far and cannot return home until I have captured her.

Semyon turned back to his forge as he tried to think of an answer.

The firebird whispered to him. Tell him you saw a streak of light, but it was only a feather that fell. Give it to him, and send him away.

Semyon told the prince about the feather and gave it to him as the firebird said.

Perhaps this will be enough to satisfy my father, Prince Ivan replied and went on his way.

When the prince was gone, the firebird said, You have helped me, and so I shall help you. The crops have failed. The livestock has died. Your iron is brittle. I will stay and do what I can to help your village through the winter.

With that, the firebird shed her plumage and transformed into the most beautiful woman that Semyon had ever seen. She called herself Elena. Those in the village called her Elena the Fair. During the day, Elena would go with the other village women to forage nuts and berries from the woods. She always knew where to find the best and ripest ones. At night, she became a firebird again to make sure that the embers of the forge never went out.

After a long time or a short time, Prince Ivan came to the village again.

Blacksmith, he said, I still hunt for the firebird, and you are the only other to have seen her. The feather made my father want her all the more. I implore you—is there any other sign of her?

Semyon turned back to his forge as he tried to think of an answer. Elena stepped out from the cottage with a small basket in her hands.

We saw a streak of light, but when we followed it, there was only this egg that had melted all the snow around it. It was surely left by the firebird.

Perhaps this will be enough to satisfy my father, Prince Ivan replied and went on his way.

Elena continued to do what she could to help the village. During the day, she would wander the steppe with the others to ensnare the wild horses and tame them to be ready to plow. She always knew where to find the smartest and most obedient ones. At night, she would build up the fire in the forge and sleep among the glowing embers.

It was not only the fire of the forge that burned hotter and brighter. Semyon fell in love with Elena, and the warmth he had in his heart was no match for the bite of the bitter winter wind. Elena helped him in the forge. She worked the bellows to keep the coals hot and beat the metal as Semyon taught her. The plowshares were the sharpest, the horseshoes the sturdiest, and the pickaxes the strongest that had ever been made.

The plowmen were able to use the new horses to work the fallow fields at the first sign of thaw. The miners dug enough ore from the mountain to keep the smelters busy for a year. The village would want for nothing.

Winter is nearly over, Elena told Semyon as she prepared the coals for the night. I must leave you in the morning.

Semyon could feel his heart breaking. He turned away from his forge as he tried to think of how to tell Elena what he felt. Behind him was a flash. When he turned back, the firebird was settling into the hot coals to sleep. She was gone at daybreak.

The spring produced fine crops. The smelters produced fine iron. Semyon was kept busy at his forge. A single feather had been left behind to keep the fire burning, and it let him hope that he might one day be reunited with the woman he loved.

Prince Ivan returned to the village when the sun was high and hot and the fields golden with grain.

The firebird’s egg hatched, he told Semyon. Inside was this golden ring that will stay on no finger. A witch told me that it can only be worn by the most beautiful woman beyond the thrice-ninth land in the thrice-tenth kingdom. Her name is Elena the Fair. My father has sent me to claim her for his wife.

You are a dutiful son, Semyon replied, but Elena is not here.

I cannot return home until she wears this ring. I have nothing to eat. My horse has no shoes. My sword was stolen by bandits. If you help me, whatever is within my power, I will grant you.

Semyon knew that this was his only chance to find Elena again. He forged new shoes for the horse: burnished and brilliant, they struck fire with every step. He forged the prince a new sword: sharp and strong, it could cleave through solid stone. Semyon took for himself a horse from the steppe and the single feather from his forge and rode with Prince Ivan in search of Elena.

They traveled for a long time or a short time, across hills and valleys, rivers and plains, until they came to the deepest forest either man had ever seen. At the first crossroads, they encountered an old beggar.

Grandfather, where can we find Elena the Fair? Prince Ivan asked.

She lives with King Dolmat in his castle. Every day, she sits in the garden and sings a sad song. If you go there, do not eat from the tree of golden apples. They grant King Dolmat long life, but to other men they only bring death.

Semyon and Prince Ivan continued on. The forest opened up to a beautiful meadow. In the middle of the meadow was a lake. In the middle of the lake was an island. In the middle of the island was the castle of King Dolmat. There was no way to cross the water, and Prince Ivan cried out in despair. Semyon drew forth the firebird’s feather and held it aloft. The wind caught it and carried it over the castle wall.

A woman’s sweet voice sang out in reply.

My heart has grown cold as the winter.

My heart has grown cold as the stone.

I left my love with this feather.

Now, it returns to me alone.

Semyon spurred his horse around the lake, desperate to find a way across. He plunged into the cold water until it was as high as his neck, but he could get no closer to the castle. The firebird’s feather had been able to reach the gardens, however. He turned to Prince Ivan.

I forged your horseshoes with the firebird’s magic. Let us see if that will carry us across.

Semyon rode behind Prince Ivan as the young hero drove his horse into the water of the lake. The surface bubbled and roiled. Steam billowed up. A cloud formed a bridge that let them ride through the main gate and into the courtyard.

Who is this that comes uninvited to my home? bellowed King Dolmat. He stood garbed in golden raiment as brilliant as the sun. About his shoulders was clasped a cloak the color of fire and trimmed with the blazing plumage of a firebird.

I am Prince Ivan, son of King Vasily. This is Semyon the Blacksmith. My father has sent me in search of Elena the Fair to be his wife.

My prince, if you had but told me, I would have let you in gladly. Stay and dine with me tonight. I will bring Elena to you in the morning.

They sat down at a long table heavy with food. Prince Ivan and Semyon were both served more than they could possibly ever eat. Near the end of the meal, a bowl filled with golden apples was offered to them. Prince Ivan reached for one without even thinking.

My prince, perhaps we should retire for the night. Semyon grabbed the young man’s hand before he could take a bite. King Dolmat has been most generous, but golden apples are far too rich for the likes of me. Perhaps leave them for the morning. Something as sweet as those would unsettle the stomach.

I assure you of the contrary, King Dolmat replied. A single bite from my golden apples will bring the deepest sleep to even the staunchest of men.

My prince, Semyon cautioned again, I encourage you to be wise and heed the words of your grandfather.

Prince Ivan nodded and set the apple down. You are right, my friend. The sooner to bed, the sooner to rise. To see Elena the Fair again will be sweetness enough.

The prince slept soundly that night, but Semyon could not. He followed the haunting echoes of Elena’s song but could seem to get no closer to the gardens.

My love kept me safe in the winter.

My love sheltered me from the snow.

I abandoned him when the spring rains came,

And his heart I now never will know.

Semyon could not bear it. Somehow, without needing to think about it, he found the words to reply.

My heart beats like hammer on anvil.

My heart burns as hot as the fire.

I abandoned my forge just to find my love,

And my love is my only desire.

He turned a corner to find a set of doors ornately carved and gilded with gold. They opened to let him pass, revealing a garden lush with flowers. At the center was a tree heavy with golden apples. Elena sat beneath it on a velvet couch. Around her was what appeared to be a large golden cage. Semyon rushed to her side. The cage had no door and no lock. His strength was not enough to move it.

It is useless, my love, Elena cried. King Dolmat has stolen my magic and imprisoned me here for eating his golden apples. He will set me free only if I marry him.

Prince Ivan has come to take you to his father. The egg you gave him held a ring for your finger alone.

That ring will return me to my true form. I do not want it.

Your magic may be the only way to free you.

If I become a firebird again, I will forget that I love you! She grasped at his hand. I would sooner die.

Then, what can we do?

Wait for the morning, Elena told him. King Dolmat will honor his promise to bring me to you. When he does, you must steal his cloak and throw it into the lake. He will lose his power over me.

It was hard to leave her, but Semyon did as she said. When the morning came, he and Prince Ivan waited by the castle gate. King Dolmat came forth with Elena on his arm. While Prince Ivan bowed to kiss her hand, Semyon stole the king’s cloak of fiery feathers and cast it into the lake as he had been instructed. King Dolmat howled as the water bubbled and boiled, and Prince Ivan cut off his head with one blow of his sword.

Come, Elena, Prince Ivan said. Put on this ring so that I may take you to my father.

You are a dutiful son, Elena replied. But your father is dead, and your brothers fight over his crown. You must take back the kingdom and rule it wisely.

Elena drew forth the feather Semyon had brought and used the last of her magic to form a woman from the cloud of steam. She was the most beautiful woman that Prince Ivan had ever seen. He placed the golden ring on her finger, and she came to life. He called her Vasilisa the Wise and lifted her onto his horse.

Semyon held Elena close as they rode home across plains and rivers, valleys and hills. They arrived back at the village in time for the harvest and wished Prince Ivan and Vasilisa every happiness.

Elena helped the farmers to thresh the grain. They taught her the best ways to keep it safely stored for the winter. No one would suffer from Father Frost’s biting chill. At night, she would build up the fire on the hearth and fall asleep wrapped in Semyon’s arms.

The forge never went cold again, and they lived their lives in happiness and prosperity.

A Night to Remember

Max Woods

Eh, move it, Grandmum, I said cheerfully as the old woman scooted in between me and the fire.

Muttering to herself, the old woman edged to the side, allowing me to properly warm my feet before the fire.

Travelling on my own wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be. I had been apprenticed to a shipwright on the other side of the country, and was in the process of making my way to his workshop. Problem was, travel was so boring! I hadn’t met an interesting person in the two weeks I’d been on the road, and was beginning to fear that I’d reach my destination without any sort of adventure.

Popping a caramel out of my pocket, I sucked on it and gazed around the cozy main room of the inn. As if on cue, all of the window shutters flew open with a crash! A gust of wind roared through the room, all but blowing out the fire. The patrons cried out in surprise, while the innkeeper moved his ample girth and set about refastening the shutters.

What a storm, commented a woman in a lacy bonnet, for a night like this one.

The spirits are angry, murmured the grandmum as she drew in the dust by the fireplace.

The only spirits around here are what he sells, I quipped, pointing at the innkeeper with a caramel-covered finger.

The old woman watched me incredulously for a few moments. I did my best to ignore her, and sucked on my candy as merrily as I could. But she wouldn’t let up, so finally I looked around and asked, What’s got your dress in a knot?

You don’t believe in them? she asked, her voice going up as I shrugged, You don’t believe in the fairies?

I believes what I sees, Grandmum, I replied out of the corner of my mouth, avoiding eye contact with her all the same, and I’ve never seen the folk of that world. Bogeys, sprites, witches, goblins, and all the rest of the monsters: much as I wish it were otherwise, they don’t exist!

The rest of the inn had fallen quiet to watch our exchange, and it wasn’t until I looked around that I realized we were the center of attention. Then my gaze fell upon the grandmum, and I realized that she was smiling at me. It was an eerie smile, the way her lips peeled back around her gums and showed off all of her teeth. And her eyes…not milky white, not vacantly blue. They were a dead gray, like a slab in a graveyard.

You’ll meet three of them before you rest tonight, she told me, still smiling blindly into my face, visitors from that world.

You’re off your nut, I scolded cheerfully, -in a minute or two, I’m headed straight up to bed. It’d take the King of Fairies himself and his army of trumpeters to wake me up before sunrise, should anyone want to visit.

Actually, you’re wrong, the innkeeper cut in thickly, there’s no room here; you’re goin’ to have to find lodgin’s elsewhere.

I gaped at this, but the large man was adamant. No room meant no room. Frustrated now, I sucked my caramel in mournful silence until the woman in the bonnet mentioned another village not five miles away. They have an inn, said she, which might have room.

Thanking her, I got up to go. I could still feel the old hag’s blind eyes on my back as I entered the gale outside.

Blimey, but it was a storm! Not a drop of rain to speak of, but dark clouds like mountains filled the sky, and the wind blew strong enough to carry a chap off his feet!

In spite of the clouds, the night was brightly lit by a half-moon. Well, that’s grand, I thought, no magical crescent moons or full moons. Werewolves and fairies…nonsense, all of it! If only it were true…

I had no horse, so my feet were what carried me down the rough road. Along the way, the trees bent almost to the ground, battered by the unceasing wind. I didn’t recognize the part of the country I was in, so when I hit the fork in the road, I didn’t know which path to take.

Then I saw the man standing by the bench. The bench was made of a pale, smooth stone, and set right in between the two roads, exactly where there should have been a sign with directions. The man was standing in front of the bench, and it was his standing that drew my attention. Why would a man stand when he could sit? He wasn’t even looking at the bench, he was just staring at the split between the roads!

Perhaps he would know the way! Approaching him, I called out, Hello, guv! Some night, eh?

The man turned towards me. He was an elderly sort of chap, with fancy clothes and a thin face. I could have mistaken him for a king if only he hadn’t worn such dark colors! Blacks and dull reds…not exactly my kind of king!

-You aren’t lost, are you, child of man? he asked, his bright eyes taking in my appearance as quickly as I took in his.

Thing is, I am, I replied, and I don’t know which path to take. Could you tell me which one leads to the nearest town?

Certainly. It is… instead of pointing to a road, the man kept watching me, …but you aren’t all alone, are you?

I am, guv. Would you like a caramel?

Please. He took the candy, and I had another one myself. We chewed in silence for a moment before he smiled at me. You know, you’re a very bright young chap, his voice sounded like he polished both it and his shoes until they shined, and I would be greatly saddened if you will not do me the pleasure of having you for dinner.

The man’s teeth were pointed, and I saw something red and hungry lurking in the corners of his eyes. Before I had time to think, What! A real vampire! my tongue was already coming up with an excuse. …Well, the thing is, guv, I’d love to dine with you. I’m just really full- I pretended to belch, from my meal at that last inn. Phew! They had the loveliest garlic bread there!

A scowl smote the man’s face. I could see him wrinkling his nose as he replied, …Garlic, you say?

Oh, yeah. I ate more of the stuff than I should have, I grinned widely, -but you know what, maybe I could make room for more! What were you saying about dinner?

Thank you for the caramel, child of man, the vampire said quickly, turning and walking down road to the left.

Laughing to myself, I took the right fork. With any luck, I’d chosen the right road and would be at the town before the night was half-spent. All the same, as I observed the half moon playing peekaboo with the clouds, I couldn’t help but think, One down, two to go. Hope I’ve got enough caramel for the others.

The man probably hadn’t been a vampire. I was probably just making a mountain out of a molehill. But still, I found myself glancing over my shoulder. If he hadn’t been a vampire, it was strange that the mention of garlic put him out like that.

I stomped my feet and shook my head, sticking my hands in my pockets and setting off at a brisk trot. The endless hills and fields around me turned into a black forest, and I took the time to snort at myself. Really! Vampires! I heard one grandmum talk about the other world, and my pluck all but died!

Must be the late hour, I mused, glancing up as the moon slid behind the clouds, nothing else out at this time but the creatures-

Something in the brush to my right cracked so suddenly that I stood still. It sounded like a large animal, and I didn’t have a weapon. I hoped that maybe, whatever it was, it would move on if I just stayed still…

The brush snapped again, and a huge, hairy thing crawled out onto the road. It stood up, taller than a man, and turned to face me. I felt my heart leap into my mouth as soon as I laid eyes on its hairy face. It was a wolf, standing on its feet like a man and looking my in the eyes like it meant to ask me the time.

Now I like dogs as much as the next bloke, but wolves are another matter entirely! Still, I’m nothing if not quick with my tongue, so I made the first move.

-Hullo! says I, I seem to have lost my way! I was on my way to the town near here--perhaps you’ve been there--and got mixed up at the crossroads back there! Do you know if this is the right-

Oh, you’re on the right track, the wolf growled, stepping closer. His eyes were blue like a man’s, tinged with red at the edges, and with slit-pupils like a cat’s.

-Thank you! I wiped my forehead, trying to pass it off as a gesture of relief rather than one of surprise, By the by, d’you want a caramel?

Why, thank you, the wolf graciously accepted, and for the second time, I chewed candy with an unusual stranger.

So, this path leads to the town? I asked when my teeth were no longer stuck together.

Mmf- the wolf replied, wrenching his teeth apart and replying, -yes, yes it does.

You don’t happen to want to eat me, do you?

Nah. I had a sheep already tonight, and a bite like yourself wouldn’t do much good for me. That caramel really hit the spot, though.

I’m very glad you liked it! And, if you don’t mind me asking, you are a werewolf?

Yep.

I see.

Good for you. I still don’t know how it happened. One day, I’m playing in the bushes, and then something bites me. Then I start growing hair like crazy.

I’m very sorry, guv.

It’s fine. Not your fault, anyhow.

We stood there, licking our teeth until the moon came back out from behind the clouds.

Night’s wearing on, the wolf observed.

Yep, I agreed, and I’d best be on my way.

Put her there- the wolf extended a shaggy paw.

I shook it, and was surprised by how warm it felt. Nice to meet you, guv. Take care, now!

Same to you, child of man, he replied, giving my hand a firm shake and then ambling down the road in the direction that I’d come from.

I turned to go, and the wind all but blew me up and down the rough hills until I was out of the black forest.

What a strange night! Was I finally to have an adventure? My disbelief in the bogeys of the other world was quickly crumbling, but I didn’t feel displeased by it. It was more like waking up from a sleep. Vampires, werewolves…it was good that they existed, especially when all you had to do to get around them was threaten them with garlic or offer them candy.

Two down, just one left, I thought just before I saw the graveyard. The half-moon made the headstones and wrought-iron fences glow with a pale light. There appeared to be no one but me about, and yet-

At that very moment, the wind died. I looked around in surprise, and noticed a short man with a sack standing in front of the fence gate.

Here’s my man! Here’s lucky number three! I thought, trotting up to meet him, What a night! What an adventure!

Then I realized that the man wasn’t short at all. He was dead, and the sack in his hands actually appeared to be his own head. Clad in silent, rotting rags, all he did was watch me with empty eye-sockets.

I hailed the corpse with as cheery a voice as I could muster, Top of the evening, guv! Lovely night to be out and about, eh?

The corpse said nothing at all.

Look, I know you’re the third, I told it as I got closer, and I’ve got to go through you before I’m to get any rest this night! But I have to say, it’s a pleasure to meet a bloke as old and esteemed as yourself!

The corpse extended a single, bony finger in my direction. Its mouth did not move, being bound up with a bandage, but I heard a voice as clear as my own speak to me.

Drop your courtesies. You’re the little skeptic, aren’t you?

You could call me that, yes.

Seeing is believing, the stiff taunted me, have you enough of both, now?

No need to be cheeky about it, guv, that’s my job. And I’ve learned my lesson. What you can’t see…might still exist.

If the thing could have smiled, it would have as it said, …Good. Then you acknowledge us at last?

That I do. Fancy a caramel?

...My mouth is tied up with a bandage.

Oh, drat the luck! A pity, but I guess I’ll just have yours for you! I popped the caramel in my mouth. …You know, I have to ask, guv, what’s it like to be dead?

It’s awfully boring. And dusty. You wouldn’t believe the dust.

I nodded sympathetically.

And the spiders, those blasted things are annoying. And the fact that I only get called out of my rest every once in a while, just to talk to little ‘blighters’ like you.

Do you have to do that a lot?

Not often. How does my caramel taste?

Mm… I licked my lips, scrumptious. You have good taste.

Thanks.

Well, it’s past my bedtime, I shrugged, and I’m afraid I must get on. It’s lovely to have met you!

The pleasure is mine, impudent child of man. Don’t let the wind hit you on the way out.

With that, the wind picked back up and blew me onto my face. I peeled myself off the road, looked up, and saw the corpse no more.

That night was the highlight of my trip to the shipwright. I’d met three creatures of the darkness, and was thrilled to find that they do exist! In fact, I became something of a nut for the supernatural. For the next several weeks, I hardly made any progress in my travels because I couldn’t walk by a haunted house without going in to look for the ghosts. Every legend that people mentioned, I had to investigate!

And, eh, I also took care to keep my pockets stocked with caramels at all times. Just in case.

The Fiddler & the Fox

Grace Woods

Once upon a time, there was a fiddler. He was young and inexperienced, and very unremarkable except for his skill with his fiddle. He was smart enough, yes. Brave enough. Strong enough. But so was everyone else.

It didn’t bother him, though. There was only one thing that bothered him.

He didn’t know who he was.

At some point, he had lived with a traveling group, and they taught him how to live on the road. But before that, he could remember almost nothing. And he wasn’t sure how to learn more about his past except by traveling around the country, playing his fiddle, and asking questions. He called himself Skimmer, but everyone else called him The Fiddler.

One evening late in the fall, he decided to stop at an inn for the night. As was his custom, he went down to the dining room and played his fiddle for the people eating there. And as usual, everyone was enjoying it. The customers thumped their mugs on the table in time to the song. The servants clapped. The innkeeper watched on, beaming through his bushy beard, and brought out more food.

And then something happened.

The door blew open with a gust of wind, and a red fox bolted into the room. It shot across the floor, not stopping until it had climbed up onto Skimmer’s shoulders. It curled around his neck, panting and eyeing the door.

Then the hounds broke into the room, barking and yipping. They bounded over to Skimmer and sat in a circle around him, barking at the fox.

What’s all this about? demanded the innkeeper.

The door opened again, and in stormed an angry maid with something feathery in one hand. She pointed at the fox.

This one’s been stealing from the chicken coop again! He killed three last night and another this afternoon, and there would’ve been more if I hadn’t caught him!

Skimmer opened his mouth to speak, but the dogs were still barking at the fox on his shoulders. He put his bow to his fiddle and drew out a long, low note. The dogs stopped barking, eyeing him curiously with their big, dark eyes.

Skimmer turned to the maid. I’m sorry, miss. And he’s sorry too.

The maid wasn’t appeased. Next to his ear, the fox’s heart was beating quickly.

How much do you want for the chickens he killed? Skimmer asked.

The maid stared at him long and hard. Finally, she lowered her gaze. Five gold pieces.

He took out his money bag and paid her in full. In turn, she set the feathery carcass down at his feet, and called the dogs back to the yard. Her face was gentler as she walked out the door.

Even after she was gone, the fox’s heart was still racing. It watched the door for a second, and then glanced at the fiddler.

The chicken’s yours now, Skimmer said.

The fox climbed down from his shoulders and sat by the chicken. And then Skimmer started playing again, the customers started dancing again, and all the tension was gone.

He played long into the night, until everyone had gone to bed. Then he stayed in the dining room, sitting by the fire and watching it burn into the last logs. The fox was still there; he watched his rescuer carefully, and finally said:

Thank you… I wasn’t sure how I would get out of that one. Your wits are quicker than mine. What’s your name?

I don’t know, the fiddler replied.

You don’t know your name? What do people call you?

Usually they call me Fiddler. I call myself Skimmer.

Skimmer… the fox flicked an ear. Why’s that? Do you skim stones on the lake? Are you good at it?

No, Skimmer laughed. "I’m really bad at it! But that’s the one thing that I can remember about who I am, and so I try not to forget it."

Silence fell. The fox watched the fire.

You really don’t know who you are? he asked.

No, said Skimmer. But I want to know. And I want to know about my father… who he was, where we lived, what my mother was like. Everything. All I have right now… he hesitated, … is that one memory of sitting on the shore of a big lake, skipping stones with my dad. He had the bluest eyes, the deepest laugh, and he taught me how to play the fiddle. That’s all I remember.

That doesn’t sound like the people around here, said the fox.

No… that’s why I’m traveling. I want to find out where I came from.

The fox shifted closer to the fire. You know… our king is supposedly one of the wisest people in the land. I bet he would know something about your father.

You think?

I do. In fact, I’m willing to help you get to the city and meet the king. Does that sound good?

A deal was struck. That night, the fox slept inside for the first time in his life. Skimmer slept by the fire, dreaming of kings and castles and foxes chasing chickens.

The next day, they set out for the castle. It was a brisk autumn morning, and everything felt exciting. But as the hours of walking turned into days, and the days to weeks, Skimmer grew tired.

Why are we slowing down? asked the fox.

My feet hurt, said the fiddler, sitting down on a stump. I’m not used to walking this far all day, every day.

We should get a horse, then. That’s how most people get around.

Where am I supposed to find a horse?

Right there, the fox pointed with his nose. There was a farm on the side of the road.

I don’t have any money, Skimmer pointed out.

That won’t be a problem. Just go see if they have a horse!

As it turned out, the farm was a horse farm. There were all sorts of different horses, whinnying and stamping and sniffing at the newcomer as he followed the farmer past the pens. But all of them were too expensive.

Ask him if these are all his horses, the fox whispered.

Are these all of your horses? Skimmer asked.

Well… the farmer hesitated. Now that you mention it… there’s one more.

Is it a good horse? How much is it?

She’s a very good horse. And she doesn’t cost a thing.

Except the good horse who didn’t cost a thing had a problem: she wouldn’t let anyone ride her. Everyone who tried got thrown off after a minute or so, and she knew how to throw them hard. The farmer was starting