The Fox's Final Move

The Gingerbread Man, perched precariously on the tip of the Fox’s nose, felt a thrill shoot through his cinnamon-spiced body. He’d done it! He’d outsmarted the grumpy old Cow, the speedy Horse, the woolly Sheep, the yappy Dog, and even the big, lumbering Farmer. And now, this slick, red-coated Fox, who had seemed so very clever, was carrying him across the wide, gurgling river. The water sparkled and danced below, a silver ribbon unwinding across the green fields. He could see the other side, lush and inviting, with trees that reached for the sky and flowers that bloomed in every colour imaginable. A whole new world, just waiting for him!

“Almost there, little fellow!” the Fox called, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against the Gingerbread Man’s gingerbread ears. “Just a little further, and you’ll be safe on dry land.”

The Gingerbread Man chuckled, a tiny, crisp sound. “Safe and free!” he declared, his raisin eyes shining. He wiggled his gumdrop buttons with delight. He was so proud of himself. He had been so brave, so quick-witted. He’d run and run, and he hadn’t been caught. Not by anyone.