Cinderella and Alangazar - страница 6

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Cinderella, wiping tears from her eyes, said:


– Fox, I think someday you’ll write a book called “How to Survive as a Fox.” And I’ll write the foreword myself.

– I’ll give you both copies – signed, – winked the fox.

The Story of Corporal Nettie – the Hedgehog with a Spine and a Heart

In Cinderella’s battalion, the one in charge of health and order was Corporal Nettie – a hedgehog in pince-nez glasses, always with a notebook wrapped in a bandage. Small and prickly on the outside, but only until someone sneezed or skipped breakfast.

She always carried a first-aid kit, from which she would pull out:

a herbal brew for those who fell into the river;



bruise cream after Alangazar’s training sessions;

calming candies for those heading into reconnaissance for the first time.

But most importantly – she healed with words.

One day, a little mouse named Swiftpaw came to her crying:

– I… I’m no longer the fastest! A snail beat me during drills! A snail, Corporal!

Nettie adjusted her glasses and jotted something down in her notebook.

– Mmm… Classic case of Meaningless Hurry Syndrome. Prescription: one day walking on tiptoes. No running. Just tiptoe. Look how beautiful the world is.

Swiftpaw was indignant at first. But the next day, she noticed how the morning sun glistened in puddles, how the cat pretended to nap just to avoid washing dishes, and how Fox was secretly sneaking donuts into the field.

– I feel calmer, – she admitted that evening.

Nettie only nodded and added:

– Running is fine. But first, know why you're running.

The soldiers respected her. Some even feared her a little. But everyone knew: if anything went wrong – Nettie would be there. And if it wasn’t butterflies in your belly but a thunderstorm of porridge – she’d fix it.

Cinderella often said of her:

– I have a giant, a scout, a fairy, and a tactical genius. But if the heart of the battalion gets sick – Nettie will get it back on its paws.

The Story of Peter the Rooster – the Army-Grade Alarm Clock

In Cinderella’s battalion, no one feared enemies – everyone feared sleeping through reveille. Because reveille was called by Peter: a proud rooster with officer’s epaulettes, a uniform the color of ripe cherries, and a voice that could scrape rust off horseshoes from a mile away.

Each morning, he flew up to the watchtower, took a deep breath, and shouted: