The Fox's Helpful Offer

The Gingerbread Man stood on the bank of the wide, gurgling river, his little gumdrop buttons practically vibrating with a mixture of triumph and trepidation. He had outrun the farmer, dodged the dog, and even managed to confuse a flock of sheep with his speedy zig-zags. The cool spray of the water tickled his nose, and he could almost taste the freedom that lay on the other side. But the river was too wide to jump, too deep to wade, and the current looked strong enough to carry even a brave gingerbread man far, far away. He wiggled his icing toes, a frown creasing his sugary brow.

Just as a tiny sigh of despair threatened to escape his spiced lips, a voice, smooth as polished river stones, drifted from the reeds. "Well now, what have we here? A little fellow looking a bit stuck, are we?"

The Gingerbread Man's head snapped up. Emerging from the tall grass was a magnificent fox, his fur the colour of a sunset, his tail a magnificent plume. His eyes, sharp and intelligent, twinkled with an amusement that the Gingerbread Man, in his haste, didn't quite register as dangerous.