The Fox and the Feathered Fortune

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"The Fox and the Feathered Fortune"
In a forgotten corner of the forest, where the trees lean close to whisper secrets to each other, a narrow path winds like a ribbon through the underbrush. Few creatures dared tread it—save one.
One misty morning, just as the dew still clung to the leaves, a figure emerged from the brambles. Tall for a fox and walking upright, he wore a threadbare vest, patched at the seams, and trousers that looked like they'd once belonged to someone else—someone taller, perhaps human. A red scarf hung loosely around his neck, and atop his head sat a battered cap, pulled low over his sharp eyes.
His name was Remy, though few knew it. Most just called him “The Stray.”
Under his arm, clutched tightly but carefully, was a plump white goose who flailed and hissed with great offense. Her name was Gertrude, and she had no intention of being anyone’s dinner.
“Set me down, you scoundrel!” she shrieked, flapping her wings.
“Now now,” Remy said, his voice smooth as warm honey, “is that any way to speak to your rescuer?”
“Rescuer? You snatched me from my pond!”
“Well,” Remy shrugged, “you looked bored.”
Despite her protests, Gertrude didn’t entirely mind the company. Remy, as it turned out, was a charming rogue. He told her stories as they walked—of witches who brewed tea from moonlight, of trolls who danced in slippers made of moss, and of his own legendary duel with a hedgehog pirate on a floating log.
Still, she eyed him warily. “What do you really want with me?”
Remy grinned, his sharp teeth glinting. “Ah, you’ve got me there, my feathered friend. Truth is, I’ve heard a tale. A goose, white as snow, holds the key to the Hollow Oak’s treasure. That’s you, I believe.”
Gertrude blinked. “Treasure?”
“Mm-hmm. Deep in the woods. Said to be guarded by riddles, traps, and an owl who speaks in rhymes.”
Gertrude puffed up proudly. “Well then, let’s find it.”
And so, the fox and the goose continued on—one full of mischief, the other full of sass—toward the heart of the forest. Perhaps they’d find gold, or perhaps just trouble. But one thing was certain:
When a sly fox and a clever goose walk together down a hidden path, something magical is bound to happen.
To be continued