The brothers grabbed the pots. The coins. The shiny things — all of it. They bumped Felix to the floor and kept filling their bags.
Felix sat in a pile of spilled flour, blinking. On the table, the only thing left: a tiny golden goose. It blinked back. "Quack."
The goose waddled past the doorway, past the garden gate, into the dark pine forest. Felix's muddy shoes thumped the dirt path behind it.
Twigs SNAP-SNAP overhead. Cold fern-water dripped right on his nose. Felix sniffed once and kept following the golden dot ahead.
The pines were so black the goose's feathers glowed like a little lantern. Felix tucked his chin under his coat. Keep following the light, he thought.
The goose stopped at a curtain of mossy roots and scratched the dirt with one tiny leg. Behind the roots, a castle tower stood in the dark.
A princess sat behind iron bars, her crown caked with grey dust. "Please," she whispered. "Don't reach for the gold."
Felix patted his pockets. One dry crumb tumbled between his fingers. He set it gently on the bars.
The princess took the crumb. The bars CLANG open. Gold light poured out like thick honey, humming low.
Felix held the goose to his collar. "I just needed you to be free." The golden light spilled wide into the village.
In the village road, the two brothers stood turned to stone, arms still frozen mid-grab. Felix walked past.
The goose pecked a sunbeam off his shoulder and quacked once. Crumbs scattered in the light. Felix grinned and walked on.
