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of a particularly steep hill, he realized that the endless hay was an illusion. There, nestled in a small valley between two hay-covered hills, was a small cottage. Outside the small cottage was a giant apple tree, filled with apples. Trix’s head and stomach and feet all cheered.
    He took the measure of the cottage as he raced down the hill toward it. The grass on the paths around it was overgrown. The sod on the roof was sprinkled with wildflowers. No smoke rose from the chimney. No window or door, even on this beautiful day, was open. Trix decided that the cottage was abandoned, which explained the neglected hayfields. This was good news, for it meant all the apples he could eat and all the rest and shade he could soak up before continuing his journey onward. Oh, happy day!
    Trix reached the bottom of the hill and stretched his arm out for the lowest, ripest apple on the tree.
    " Who comes to steal my apples ?"
    The voice was female, slightly crackled with cold or age. The front door of the cottage was now open a crack. The voice had come from the darkness inside.
    Trix bowed low to the cottage. "Trix Woodcutter, milady. I am but a poor boy journeying alone to an abbey in the north. My belongings were swept away in the magical sea. I thought this cottage abandoned, or I would never have presumed to take an apple from your tree without asking. That said, you do have many fine apples here. Could I trouble you for one or two of them, please, and the use of your tree’s shade to rest my weary bones?”
    "You may have as many apples as you desire,” said the voice, "and you may rest as long as you like. But I would first have you do something for me."
    Trix bowed again. His stomach growled mightily at the teasing abuse. "Name your task, milady."
    "You must fetch me the topmost apple on that tree and bring it to me.”
    What luck! Having grown up next to the Wood, Trix was a master at climbing trees. He could do it in his sleep (and had on a few occasions, according to Sunday). This full tree, thick with branches, would be nothing at all for him to scale. "I will have your prize in the jiffiest of jiffs," Trix declared, and he quickly scrambled up the tree. As he leapt from limb to limb, he was so happy to be somewhere familiar that his aching head and feet and stomach forgot to complain.
    In the jiffiest of jiffs his head emerged from the branches and leaves at the very top of the tree. From this vantage point, the white-capped mountains in the distance were larger than he'd ever seem them before; the magical ocean had taken him much farther north than he'd anticipated. A fortunate bit of chaos, that. A shorter journey was always good, once the worst obstacles had been cleared.
    Not forgetting his task, he looked about to see which apple hung highest on the branches around him. There were plenty of apples here as well, but surely one must stand out… a-ha! He spotted it at once: a perfectly shaped apple made of solid gold. It snapped right off into Trix's hand as if it had been waiting to be plucked. Prize obtained, Trix slid down the branches and hopped down to the ground in a shower of leaves.
    He bowed again, offering the fruit in his outstretched palm. Its weight reminded him of a certain golden ball his sister had been forced to sell at the market once…a bauble given to her with love by a frog who would be king. “Your apple, milady.”
    The door opened. Before him stood not the old witch he’d expected but a young woman. She was gold from head to toe. Her hair was gold. Her eyes were gold. Her clothes were gold. In the bright light of the sun he could even make out a small gold star in the middle of her forehead. Stunned by her blinding beauty he bent further, lowering his face to the ground.
    "Would you share the apple with me, good Trix?" Her voice cracked again and she coughed daintily. Out here, all alone… Trix imagined this girl spoke to no one regularly, not even herself (which was a shame).
    "But of