The Fox’s Wedding A junior at PALY, Noel Ying is an avid fan of fairy tales and fantasy. In their free time, Ying illustrates whimsical comics and writes stories about what it means to be human.
22 22
The girl first met the old fox by the riverbed. He, sly and proud, had been admiring his handsome reflection in the rushing waters, when he noticed a young lady step into the clearing to draw water from the stream. Startled, he jumped and fell into the river - splash! - and was swiftly swept away. Noticing this, the girl plucked the struggling fox out of the water. “Thank you,” the sly fox croaked, already forming a plan upon seeing her pity for him. “However may I repay you?” “You’re so skinny, your bones don’t have half a stew’s worth of meat on them,” the girl replied. “Oh, but watch!” cried the cunning fox, leaping away and soon producing three plump rabbits. Cautiously, the girl took the rabbits before sprinting off; one did not trifle with the arcane. From behind her, the old fox cried, “I have not repaid you in full!” Day after day, the girl found baskets of berries and nuts left at her doorstep, or a small pile of fat game, or pails of spring water clearer than that of any earthly well. While she put it all to good use, whispers ran throughout the village. “Magic,” said the women. “Enchantery,” said the men. Fie, thought the girl. On the next clear day, the girl returned to the riverbank. “Fox,” she called. “Come out.” The old fox slunk out of the brush. “Do my gifts not please you?” “They are nice,” the girl sighed, “but people are suspicious. It is witchcraft to have food and drink appear on your doorstep every morning. Every night I return to my bed under such accusations, and I must worry that I may never again see the light of day. How could I tell them that this is all because of a generous little fox?” The sly fox thought for a moment, then smiled a conniving smile, with all his teeth on display. The girl did not like that smile much. “Very well,” exclaimed the fox. “I shall dispel those accusations posthaste and bother you no more!” The fox disappeared, bounding back into the forest. The girl returned to her housekeeping duties, and in time, the whispers of witchcraft died down. One day, the village’s sentry raised a cry from the watchtower. “Look there!” he yelled. “Travelers!” A glorious caravan of swordsmen on horses guarded a splendidly plush red carriage, from which a stunning young man bearing a delicately embroidered crimson robe stepped out, his long black hair hanging sleek, and his visage dripping with jewels and furs. “A prince!” cried the women. “The lord is here!” cried the men. But the red pelt hanging from the young lord’s waist was what riveted the girl. The villagers gathered their best fare for the lord’s meal and constructed a dwelling for his lordship. However, the young lord declared that he had but a single purpose for his journey. Pointing to the girl, he declared, “I shall marry this young lady, if she will have me. With her permission, we shall have a ceremony tomorrow!” The girl hadn’t wanted to agree, but her old mother pushed her to accept, furiously whispering to her that this was likely her only chance to ever rise from village girl to lady. So the girl
