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Late one evening on autumn’s eve, the village of Elenae was alight with sounds of a drunken father’s rage. Vilde, his daughter, was the victim of his wrath. Though the villagers could hear his shouts, they did nothing to help the girl. They stayed in their stone houses and pretended all was well.

“You cannot mend clothes. You cannot cook supper. You cannot keep tidy,” the man spat at Vilde, bushy brows furrowed over dull eyes. He reached a meaty hand toward a worn, wrapped axe lying against his chair near the roaring hearth of their home. His voice dropped. “What good are you?”

Vilde, in nothing but a thin nightdress, sly-footed her way to the door, terror spiking in her veins.

“You are nothing,” her father said, gripping his axe and pointing it at her. “Nothing.”

The girl expected waves of anguish to overcome her, but instead felt a surge of resolve. This was not new to her. Since her mother left their world, Vilde had grown used to her father’s stained heart. But she would take this no longer.

She tilted her chin up, and said, “I am something,” then retreated out into the velvet night. Her father did not chase after her, and Vilde knew the people of Elenae would not come to her aid if she knocked on their doors. So, she wandered far to the edge of the village, where the Forest of Fi towered high above her. She brushed dirt from the hem of her nightdress and sat beneath trembling stars, craning her neck to stare at the milky moon. Its light bathed her skin a pale white and seeped the fire from her wispy auburn braid. Her only companions were the sweet-smelling lunar bellflowers at the tree line, serenading her with delicate chimes as they swung.

Oh, how Vilde ached to be one of them. She hugged her knees and said to no one, “Forgive me, for I long to be free.”

“You wish for freedom, youngling?” a tinkling voice called to her from the tall grass. For a moment, Vilde was startled, but in the faint light she saw the round, spotted head of a mushroom peeping at her from near her toes. Its doughy arms waved up at her, and its tiny black eyes caught reflections of bright embers in the sky. More Folk waddled from the brush, the size of fat toads. Some carried lanterns no bigger than fingernails, luminous with colors that could only have come from magic deep within the Forest of Fi. Cyan and tangerine, violet and viridian. She had only seen the Folk once before, when she was small. Now, there were dozens standing on stumpy legs at her feet.

“We can help you,” the lead one said, “if you follow us.”

“Where?” Vilde asked.

“To the heart of Fi, where the Protector lives. That is where we call home.”

A chill caressed up Vilde’s spine. There were legends of a spirit, this Protector they spoke of. They were ones of great cunning and villagers who were never heard of again. If she were to go with the Folk, they would lead her to the Protector’s sanctuary where the being would test her with a riddle. If she could solve it, she would be rewarded with a wish.

A new life. One without worry or fear. It could be hers.

“We know the answers to all the Protector’s riddles. Follow us, and we will help you best him.”

Somewhere Vilde could not pinpoint came another voice, “Then you will be free.”

Vilde shivered, feeling the wind tumbling down from the valley and barreling right through her skin to her bones.

“What if you give me the wrong answer to say? Then I will perish,” she said.

The lead mushroom stretched its arms wide. “It is within our nature to lead, not to lie.”

And all the Folk spoke at once, voices shrill, “We do so swear.”

Vilde thought of her furious father, the life that did not want her, and knew this was her chance for something more. She went, trailing after the small group of toddling mushrooms, past the lunar bellflowers and into the shadows swirling between the trees. They went around swamps and passed patches of lichen that glowed the same colors as the Folk’s lanterns. As they walked, Vilde’s feet began to ache, but some Folk wove petals into her braid, and she found herself encouraged. They approached a clearing as dawn began to spill through the branches above them. Folk on the backs of plump, powdery bees came to greet them, humming by Vilde’s ears as the acrid smell of magic singed her nose, bitter taste settling on her tongue. She stepped into the clearing and saw a giant red fox sitting in the center, nearly as tall as the canopy. This was the Protector.

Vilde had never felt so small.

A few Folk climbed up her dress to stand on her shoulders.

“Who passes into my realm?” the fox spoke with a voice like wet gravel, resonating in the air.

She told him her name.

“Vilde,” he rumbled. “I have heard your murmurs of yearning. Answer my riddle correctly, and I will grant you what you wish.”

Ignoring the fog of unease in her mind, Vilde accepted.

The fox bent forward, studying her with ancient eyes. “I ask you this: The universe has bred all things. Our cosmos grows farther, expanding into eternity. There is only one thing infinite such as this. What is it?”

Vilde did not have to wait. She felt the answer come to her rather than hearing the tiny voice from her shoulder. It rang in her head.

“Greed,” she said.

The fox sat back. The forest grew quiet. All the Folk scurried away from the clearing.

“Cheater,” the fox sneered. “Men have tried and perished over the same riddle, yet the answer slipped off your tongue as if fed to you in that very moment. You thought you could trick the trickster?” Panic threatened to choke Vilde. The fox loomed over her. “Tell me your truth, girl. Did the breeze carry secrets your way? Was it the slick whispers of serpents in the brush you passed on your journey here? Or did the flowers in your hair show you pity and tell you my ways?”

“No,” Vilde said. “I did not cheat.”

“Now you’re a cheater and a liar.” His tail flicked. “Tell me your truth.”

Vilde kept quiet, dread seizing her.

“No more lies to tell?” The fox grinned, baring his fierce, creamy teeth. “Tell me your truth.”

Vilde’s hands shook. Her dreams tumbled from her grasp, became as impossible as holding the wind in her palms. “I did try to trick you,” she said. “It was wicked, and I am sorry. I am foolish. My father wants me dead. I came here to wish only for freedom, but I will accept the fate I’ve given myself.”

The fox tilted his head. “Not all who do wicked things are evil, young one. Some have just lost their way,” he said, beckoning her closer with a nod. Vilde obeyed, standing before him with hunched shoulders. “The Folk are my servants. They bring me challengers and whisper my answers to them. This I know. Most humans do not own up to their attempts at deception, but you did. You told me your truth as I asked. Your heart beats a song of courage, one that I admire. I will grant your wish if that is still your desire.”

Vilde agreed wholeheartedly, and the fox stood, leaning close to breathe over her body. Suddenly, she found herself shrinking toward the ground. The fox appeared larger and larger above her. Her legs grew delicate like pine needles, and her arms sprouted vibrant blue feathers.

The fox had turned her into a small bird.

“Go and roam the Forest of Fi,” he said. “Live out eternity in the skies and feel fear no longer.”

And so, Vilde left her old life behind. From that day on, she took to the air whenever she pleased, finally free.