Silence fell over the fire like a veil.
The flames quivered, as if awaiting a story.
The stars leaned closer, holding their breath.
Ertoshtuk looked up. His voice was calm, deep – like an old well.
– “Long ago, in a distant village,” he began,
– “lived a little girl. Her mother passed away early,
and her father, not wanting her to be alone, remarried.
But the new wife was cold as ice
and cruel as the February wind.”
– “There are too many like that,” sighed Cinderella,
placing a hand on Fox’s shoulder.
– “Yes,” Ertoshtuk nodded.
– “The stepmother made the girl work from dawn till dusk.
A kind word was rare —
like gold. Precious and unreachable.
And when her father passed,
she was truly alone.”
The fire crackled gently, not interrupting.
Even the crickets seemed to quiet down to listen.
– “One night, while everyone slept,
the stepmother woke the girl
and ordered her to fetch water
from a far-off well.
The girl didn’t complain —
she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders,
picked up two heavy buckets,
and walked barefoot down the damp path.”
– “How brave,” whispered Fox,
nestling closer to Cinderella.
– “The night was dark. Only the moon
lit her path with silver light.
And she walked, humming softly to herself.
Tears dropped onto the grass,
like pearls from the thread of fate.”
—
“But the stepmother wasn’t just cruel —
she was a witch.
She ordered the clouds to cover the moon.”
– “Did it get dark?” Alangazar asked,
wide-eyed, afraid to miss a word.
– “It did.
The darkness fell like a curtain.
The girl stumbled,
fell, spilled the water,
hurt her foot.
She sat down, clutched the bucket…
and cried – not from pain,
but from grief and exhaustion.
Because kindness wasn’t coming back.”
No one spoke. Only a twig crackled in the fire,
like a gentle sigh.
– “But her tears were so pure,
so true,
that the Moon awoke.
Through the thick clouds,
she stretched out a ray,
parted the darkness —
and lit the path.”
The moonlight swirled down,
wrapped around the girl,
embraced her like a mother,
and lifted her into the sky.
– “Took her?” whispered Alangazar,
shielding his eyes from the fire.
– “Yes.
Since then, the girl lives on the Moon.
She cares for the stars,
washes them with dew,
so they shine brightly.
And when you see the kindest, quietest little star in the sky —