The Gold Fox

Deep in the hills, where treasures laid buried for those who dared to find them, there lived a girl named Perdita.

She lived in a small, run-down house. Her father kept his toolbox and lamp for fixing repairs to their home.

Whenever Perdita got the chance, she took the tools and set out to the mine in the hills a few miles away. Over time Perdita gathered flakes of gold and kept them securely in a pot beside her bed.

After she collected all the gold she could find and winter arrived, she melted it down one evening over the fire and began to carefully shape it. She moulded the glistening metal into a beautiful fox.

The fox was small enough to fit within the palm of her hand and its tail flickered in the light of the flames.

She placed it on a tiny table by her bed and heaved herself onto her pillow, whispering a small wish before falling fast asleep after all her work.

In the morning Perdita woke to see the sun shining through her window, but the golden fox was gone. She looked around. Under her blanket the tiny fox was curled up sleeping, its whiskers twitched and it gave a long stretch when Perdita disturbed it. She had always wanted her very own best friend. Her beloved fox had come to life!

News of the gold fox travelled fast in the kingdom. Before the first signs of spring, the King had sent a message demanding to meet Perdita and her fox.

The King collected beautiful things – coins, paintings and jewels. But something was always missing for him. When he heard of the gold fox, he wanted it immediately.

“Name your price,” he said.

“He isn’t for sale,” said Perdita. “I made him with love. He is too valuable.”

The King was filled with rage.

But he wasn’t a cruel king. He was lonely. He had no family of his own.

“I’ll give you anything,” he offered in desperation.

“Come with me to the mine then,” she said. “If you can find your own gold I will help you make a friend and if you love it enough it might become real. Then you will know how rich you really are.”

The King agreed. He worked tirelessly and collected enough gold to craft a delicate and detailed canary.

Doing as Perdita told him, he placed it by his royal bed, dared to make a wish and went to sleep. In the morning when he reached over and touched its wing, he heard a faint song. A song his mother used to sing to him when he was very young.

He hadn’t wept in a very long time. Tears of joy soaked his gown as he held the bird upon his finger.

Perdita and her gold fox heard his story as it travelled across the hills. They smiled as they played and ran through the hills shimmering in the sunshine.

Marlowe Askew-Smith, 7.