The forest path curled under a canopy of green. Noon light fell in thick gold ribbons. Ahead, the twisted oak stood like a knuckle against the sky.
Dummling tore his last brown crust in half, the small piece vanishing in one bite. He held the bigger piece toward the old man. "Eat. It's still warm."
Crunch. The old man's dry fingers closed around the crust, and one gold tooth caught the sun. "Your reward is under that twisted oak," he said, pointing ahead.
Dummling dug his nails into the mossy roots. He pulled back a curtain of ivy, and there — tucked in the crook of the trunk — a goose, shining like a dropped coin.
The goose tipped its golden head and let out a tiny, absurd brrrk. Dummling snorted pine needles out of his nose. He yanked the goose under his arm and ran.
The creaky inn smelled of wood smoke. Dummling set the goose on the stone floor. It waddled in tight circles, eyes wide, beak open.
Slosh. Slosh. Slosh. The pitcher of ale tipped over. The goose spun twice more and wedged itself under the long table. It would not come out.
Dummling pressed his cheek to the cold floorboards. "Come on, you little golden troublemaker." A slide of bread crust went under the table, and the goose popped out, crumb on its beak.
Dummling shoved open the heavy palace doors. The great hall froze mid-laugh — the princess bent double, "HA-HA-HA!" He set the goose on the white marble.
The goose opened its beak and crows, bright as a church bell. The princess stopped. Gold flakes drifted down from its ruffled feathers and landed on the stone like tiny coins.
The king grabbed both of Dummling's shoulders and shook them. "You may marry her!" The princess tugged his sleeve. "I am stopping now. All right? I promise."
Outside on the garden wall, the golden goose stretched its wings. One last, very loud, very unceremonious BRRRK. Dummling grinned, took the princess's hand, and walked out the side gate.
