Bolot Begaliev
Cinderella and Alangazar

“Cinderella and Alangazar” is a true fairy tale kaleidoscope, where classic characters gain new life, and imagination and humor become the living fabric of a wondrous world. Cinderella here is not just a fairytale heroine, but a commander, a mother, a dreamer, and a leader. Beside her stand loyal friends: giants, talking foxes, mermaids, the Mamyts, Ertoshuk, the White and Blue Giants, and many more.

Each chapter is a mini-epic told around a campfire—full of wonders, friendship, amusing mishaps, deep love, and gentle irony. The characters are vivid and memorable, each with their own distinct voice, personality, and story, where fairy tales and modernity intertwine. A time machine, football matches with gnomes, feasts with dragons, a witches’ theater, and pies with prophecies—all create an atmosphere of magic where one wants to stay longer.

The book carries a special humanistic value: themes of kindness, mutual help, respect for elders, honesty, and inner strength are presented not in a preachy way, but through joyful and captivating plots.

It is perfectly suited for family reading, theatrical adaptations, films, and animated series.

Conclusion:

“Cinderella and Alangazar” is not just a fairy tale—it’s a world you’ll want to return to again and again. It’s a book that children under 13, their parents, and even those who once stopped believing in magic—but are now starting to again—will want to read and reread.

Cinderella and Alangazar:

Chapter 1: Cinderella’s New Life

After Cinderella married the prince, her life changed completely – it wasn’t just balls and ribbons anymore, but also matters of state. She turned out to be a wise and just ruler, and one day she even took command of a very special regiment – the Valiant Magical Battalion.

This was no ordinary battalion. It included the most extraordinary warriors from across the kingdom: flying mice, dwarf artillerymen, mermaid scouts, and even one giant named Alangazar.

Alangazar was as tall as a bell tower, with a voice like thunder and a heart as gentle as a plush teddy bear. He used to live in the mountains, far from people. But after he got married, his wise wife told him:

– Darling, it’s time you got a proper job. Enough with chasing clouds and scaring eagles. You’re a giant – start acting like one!

Alangazar thought about it… and joined the army. His strength, endurance, and thunderous laughter – which frightened enemies before the battle even began – came in very handy.

Every week, Cinderella personally visited the barracks: she checked if everything was in order, listened to complaints and praise, and sometimes just dropped by the dining hall to have lunch with the soldiers.

Alangazar especially liked signing up for personal audiences.

– Your Highness, – he boomed, scratching his head, – my bed broke again. It gave out when I turned onto my other side. Sorry, that’s the fourth one this month…

Cinderella smiled:

– Well, a giant is no small matter. I’ll order them to make you a bed out of oak and dragon bones. Maybe that will hold.

– Thank you, Your Highness! – Alangazar said joyfully, bowing so low that all the windows rattled.

Sometimes Alangazar brought Cinderella letters from his wife, covered in enormous hearts and messages like:

"Thank you, dear Cinderella, for taking care of my hubby!"

Cinderella valued soldiers like him. And even though the giant needed special shoes (made from two canvas tents), double rations, and forty-liter pots of soup – she never spared kingdom funds or kind words for him.

Beside Alangazar, there were many other unusual comrades-in-arms:

– Melody, the Drummer Fairy, who only spoke in drum rhythms.

– Sergeant Cat the Werebeast, who turned into a tiger on full moons and swept the courtyard with his tail.

– Pixel the Balletmaster Dwarf, who taught the troops to march gracefully.

Every day in this battalion was like a new chapter of a fairytale. And Cinderella, though now a high official, never forgot what it meant to be kind and humble.

Alangazar once said:

– When I was small, my grandfather – the Great Gazar – was dying. He was as tall as a mountain and lived near human villages. On the day he died, he walked to the market square. People froze: he wasn’t lying down or resting – he was dying on his feet. Swaying like an old oak in the wind…

He was so huge, wherever he fell, he could cause disaster. If he fell toward the village – the market would be crushed. Toward the river – it could flood the land.

But the hardest thing was this: my grandfather always did the opposite. If told "stop," he’d go. If people shouted "left!" – he’d turn right. That was his way – stubborn, but fair.

Those who knew him understood and shouted:

– Fall this way! Fall toward us!

They knew he’d do the opposite.

But those who didn’t know him screamed in fear:

– No! Not toward us! Fall away! Fall far away!

And that only made things more dangerous.

He stood, swaying between fear and hope, unsure where to fall…

Then one wise voice from the crowd shouted:

– People! He always does the opposite. If you want to live – tell him to fall on us!

And a miracle happened. The people overcame their fear. Hundreds of voices cried out in unison:

– Fall on us, Great Gazar! Fall this way! We are not afraid!

Grandfather smiled – for the last time. He took a step back… and fell into the river.

His body shattered, but one of his bones became a bridge. Since then, people have crossed it – from village to village, from market to home, with hope in their hearts. A bridge from a giant who chose to be useful even in his final moment.

And when I walk across that bridge, I always feel warmth under my feet. That’s my grandfather’s heart. Still warming people to this day.

When Alangazar finished, the garden fell silent.

Cinderella sat motionless, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. Her golden curls stirred gently in the breeze, but she seemed spellbound. A single tear sparkled on her cheek.

– That… that’s the most incredible story I’ve ever heard, – she whispered. – And you know, Alangazar… I would have shouted, “Fall on us,” too.

She stood, stepped closer, and laid her hand on his enormous palm – like a drop of water on a burdock leaf.

– Thank you for carrying the memory of giants. For serving. And for telling stories that give me goosebumps.

Alangazar blushed – well, as much as a giant can. His ears turned pink, and his eyes almost released two buckets of tears.

– Thank you, Your High… – he started, his voice trembling.

– No more "Your Highness," – said Cinderella, clapping her hands. – Today, I’m just Cinderella. And you’re the Grandson of the Bridge. Come, I’ll show you my lemon tree. It’s stubborn too – refuses to bear fruit. Maybe it needs a good story?

And so they walked, the giant and the princess, down the garden path like old friends.

When they returned from the garden, soldiers were already gathered on the porch – one with a mug of juice, another with a cat on his shoulder, a third with a guitar missing its strings.

In this battalion, curiosity always beat sleep.

– What are you all doing here? – Alangazar asked, scratching his head.

– Isn’t it obvious? We’re eavesdropping, – yawned Sergeant Cat the Werebeast, swatting a fly off his ear. – That wasn’t just talk. You told a whole ballad with your bass.

– Yes, yes! – said Melody the Drummer Fairy, tapping a rhythm with her wings. – We heard everything from behind the bushes! Wonderful story!

– At first we thought you were singing about a bridge… – added Pixel the Ballet Dwarf. – Then we realized it was the truth. And you know, true stories make the best fairytales.

Cinderella smiled, stepped onto the porch step, and looked over her battalion:

– Today, you didn’t just hear a tale. You heard a living memory. A memory of a giant who chose help over destruction, care over ego. Let the story of Alangazar’s grandfather live in this battalion.

Then she said loudly:

– From this day forward, the bridge over the Star River near the western barracks shall be named Gazar Bridge!

The soldiers applauded. Even the picky goat-cartographer bleated with joy.

The next morning, one of the soldiers chalked a message on the headquarters signboard:

“Fall on us, if you wish to become a bridge.”

(A popular saying in Cinderella’s battalion)

From that day on, every new recruit heard the story. Everyone knew who Alangazar was. And everyone, when crossing Gazar Bridge, bowed – not out of fear, but out of respect.

The Fox Scout and the Great Cholesterol Story

In Cinderella’s battalion served a very peculiar fox – named Fox. He was human-sized, wore a tilted cap, and always kept his paws in his pockets. In reconnaissance, he was unmatched: he could sneak into any fortress, gather intel, and never stain his collar.

Fox was known not only for spy exploits but also for his tales – cheeky, clever, and always with a moral.

One evening by the campfire, someone asked:

– Fox, were you always in the military?

The fox grinned and snapped his fingers:

– Oh no. Once, I was just a fox… with ambition.

I had a human friend – kind, generous. I proposed a plan that, to me, seemed very reasonable:

– Let’s eat our livestock one by one – first yours, then mine.

The man agreed. We feasted on his sheep, goats, and chickens – stews, kebabs, even noodle broth. But soon, his livestock was gone.

– Now let’s eat yours, – said the man.

And I replied:

– What? Oh, my dear! Doctors say meat and fat are bad for your arteries – cholesterol! We must eat greens!

– So what happened? – a soldier asked.

– He agreed. We ate grass, sorrel, nettles… and then I quietly moved in with a new friend – a wolf.

Same plan. But the wolf… wasn’t so simple.

One day, when it was time to eat my livestock, the wolf said:

– Buddy, you don’t have any livestock. And you know what? I think you are my dinner.

But I wasn’t a scout for nothing! I told him I had a secret map to a canned meat warehouse hidden in my tail. While he searched – I escaped.

Since then, I avoid sharp-toothed friends with no sense of humor.

Everyone around the fire roared with laughter. Even Alangazar clapped his huge hands.

Cinderella, sipping her tea, smiled:

– Fox, you’re quite the trickster. But in my battalion, you’re worth your weight in gold. Just promise me one thing – don’t eat government sheep.

– Scout’s honor, Your… Cinderella! – said the fox, barely holding in his laugh.

To be continued: Fox and the Wolf.

Second Story – About a Mare

When the fire was crackling softly and stars peeked over the barracks, someone said:

– Fox, one more! About the wolf!

The fox stretched, yawned theatrically, and said:

– Alright… but don’t blame me if you laugh until you hiccup.

He leaned against a tree and began:

– One day I actually did get caught by that same wolf. I don’t remember how – just that he was staring at me with hungry eyes, growling:

– Fox! I’m going to eat you! I’m starving!

Without missing a beat, I said:

– Dear Wolf, you won’t be satisfied with me. Look at me – all fur and tail. Go to the mare. She’s big, fat, and filling. That’s a real meal!

The wolf licked his lips, scratched his ear, and said:

– You know, you’ve got a point.

He tiptoed to the mare and said:

– Mare! I’m going to eat you!

But the mare – clever creature – sized him up and yawned lazily:

– Why bother? Open wide – I’ll crawl in myself.

The wolf was thrilled:

– What a lunch! No work at all!

He opened his jaws as wide as he could… and the mare – WHAM! – kicked him right in the forehead!

The thud was so loud a raven fell off a pine. Since then, the wolf avoids foxes and fears mares so much he hiccups at the sight of hooves.

The soldiers were rolling with laughter – on the grass, on benches. Even Pixel the dwarf was hiccupping and crying at the same time, and the goat-cartographer was rolling on the ground, bleating.

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:

– COCK-A-DOODLE-DOOOOOO!

RISE AND SHINE, PAWS SHOULDER-WIDTH APART!

DON’T FORGET TO CLEAN YOUR BEAKS!

…and tails, if you’ve got one!

His crowing didn’t just wake the soldiers – it woke nearby trees, mushroom colonies, crow nests, and once even started the mess hall samovar by accident.

Even Alangazar, a giant, would cover his ears with a rug. Fox hid under the blanket and played dead. The cat tried setting his own alarm one minute before Peter, purely for hearing preservation.

But no one denied it: Peter was the best alarm clock in military history.

Once, he was asked not to crow – there was a secret night drill. Peter silently agreed. In the morning, he didn’t crow. Instead…

…he tapped out a march with his beak on a pot lid.

– TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP!

Regulation wake-up!

If you oversleep – you march in your pajamas!

– That rooster’s louder than a cannon, – Cinderella smiled, stepping out of HQ. – But thanks to him, our army’s always on time.

Peter snorted:

– What matters most is waking up on time. Even if you’re a mare, a snail, or the commander herself.

The Story of Swiftpaw the Mouse – the Battalion’s Quietest Hero

If someone lost something – a button, a letter, a sock – everyone knew who to ask. Swiftpaw, the scout-mouse, was not just the fastest, but the most observant in Cinderella’s battalion.

Her paws moved so fast they left trails of smoke. She wore an invisibility hat (which was often forgotten during group photos), carried a cheese backpack, and had a map of all secret paths – even the ones beneath the kitchen cupboard.

Her missions included:

sneaking into a nearby camp to steal top-secret cookies;

eavesdropping on crow spies in the trees;

delivering chocolate to Cinderella before Alangazar devoured the rations.

Once, she was tasked with delivering a battle map during drills. Problem was – the map was twice her size.

But Swiftpaw rolled it up, strapped it to her tail, dashed across railings, somersaulted over a bucket, leapt over the soup pot – and in three minutes, the map was with the commander.

– How’d you do that?! – gasped Fox.

– I just have swift paws, – she said modestly, cleaning her whiskers.

Sometimes she got tired. Then Nettie would prescribe: “One quiet evening. Watch the moon.” That was the hardest order for Swiftpaw.

Cinderella valued her deeply. She once joked:

– If I ever need to get a secret letter into the king’s paws within an hour – I won’t send a raven. I’ll send Swiftpaw. The letter will arrive sealed with cheese.

The Next Morning…

With the first rays of sun, while the whole regiment was still stretching and sipping cocoa, a loud signal rang out.

Lapka dashed out of headquarters, rustling a paper bag.

– Everyone, to formation! Urgent news from the border! – she squeaked. – Someone has stolen… Masha’s soup pot!

The bear roared:

– That wasn’t just a pot! That was my grandmother’s enamel soup tureen!

Alangazar was already pulling on his boots, the cat was yawning but marching, and even Bulka was screwing the nut on the alarm kettle as she walked.

Cinderella stepped onto the porch, serious and focused.

– Well then, soldiers. Looks like we have a new mission…

Alangazar’s Vacation

Alangazar, the giant from the military regiment, once took a month-long vacation and went home to fetch firewood. He went into the forest, gathered a big bundle of twigs, tied it up, and carried it on his back. The load was heavy, and he walked with his eyes on the ground.

That’s when he found a needle!

Carefully, he stuck it into the bundle so he wouldn’t lose it.

When he got home, he started rummaging through the firewood.

– What are you looking for? – asked his wife, Victoria.

– A needle, – Alangazar replied.

– You stuck it into the firewood?

– Yes.

– You should’ve pinned it to your clothes – then you wouldn’t have lost it, – said Victoria.

– Alright, I’ll do that next time, – he agreed.

The next day, Alangazar went back to the forest. This time, he found a scythe. Not wanting to lose it, he tied it to his clothes.

But the scythe kept slipping and tearing his shirt. By the end, all his clothes were shredded.

– You should’ve tied it to the firewood, – Victoria explained. – Like this, by the handle and to the bundle.

– Alright, I’ll do that next time, – nodded Alangazar.

On the third day, he headed to the woods again. On his way back, he saw a shepherd fast asleep in the grass while wolves were chasing his sheep.

Alangazar didn’t interfere. He ran home to ask for advice.

– Wolves are eating the sheep! And the shepherd’s asleep! – he panted.

– You should’ve shouted: “Wolf, you scoundrel!” – suggested Victoria.

– Alright, I’ll do just that! – he shouted and ran back.

But on the road, he stumbled into a protest. The crowd was noisy, police were arriving.

Alangazar, following his wife’s advice, raised his hands and shouted at the top of his voice:

– WOLF! YOU SCOUNDREL! SHAMELESS BEAST!

The police thought he was shouting at them.

They raised their batons and gave him a good beating. But they couldn’t interrogate him – he was too big for the cell.

Bruised and battered, he returned home.

– Why did the police beat you up? – Victoria asked, stunned.

– I only said “the wolf is a scoundrel.”

– You should’ve said “Good day to you” – she sighed.

– Next time I will…

The next day, Alangazar saw a funeral procession. People in black were carrying a coffin. He beamed and, just as taught, shouted:

– Good day to you! A joyful and happy one!

The people stopped. Glared. Then – one threw an egg, another a tomato, another a clump of mud.

Covered in stains, he came home.

– You should’ve said: “Such a sad day. My condolences…” – sighed Victoria.

– Alright, I’ll say that next time…

The next day, he walked by a wedding. The bride and groom were dancing, everyone celebrating.

Alangazar stepped up and solemnly said:

– Such a sad day. My condolences!

The guests gasped in horror. Then – one with a broom, another with a tin, someone else with a boot – all chased him off.

He hid behind a fence and thought:

– That’s it! Enough! No more advice. From now on – I’ll use my own head!

The next day, he went back to the forest. Sat on a branch, started sawing it off. A passerby shouted:

– Hey! You’ll fall with that branch!

Alangazar waved him off: “I’ve got my own way now!”

A moment later – the branch snapped, and he crashed down.

Sitting there, scratching his head and brushing off the leaves, he muttered:

– Huh… Seems like he was right. Must be a smart man. Maybe even… a prophet?

And Alangazar rushed after him.

– Wait! You predicted I’d fall! Tell me, please – when will I die?

The passerby smirked:

– Hmm… you’ll die after three falls.

– Really? Only three? – Alangazar brightened. – Then I just won’t fall again!

And off he went through the forest, cheerful and light-hearted.

But then – stepped on a nail, tripped, and fell.

– Oof! One down! Two left!

Soon after, he stumbled on a stump – thud! Flat on his back.

– Oh no! Two already! Only one more left!

Now he walked very carefully. But it was hot, the firewood was heavy – sweat poured into his eyes. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve – and slipped off a bridge. Splash – right into the stream.

– That’s it! I’m dead! – he moaned, and fell asleep right there, on the firewood.

Just then, a farmer came by with a cart. One wheel got stuck in the mud. He saw the giant lying nearby.

– Hey, help push the cart!

– I’m dead… – groaned Alangazar. – That was my third fall. I’m done for…

– Don’t be ridiculous! Get up and push!

– No, I’m a corpse… I can’t…

The farmer lost patience and whipped him.

Alangazar twitched his foot. Another smack – he lifted his head. Third strike – he stood up!

– Whoa! – he gasped. – I… I came back to life?! Thank you! You’ve revived me! That’s a magical whip!

– Yeah, yeah… Keep it if you want, – sighed the farmer.

Alangazar gleefully brought the whip home. Wrapped it in cloth, hid it under the bed.

– What are you hiding? – Victoria asked.

– This whip… With it, I can come back to life anytime!

The Story of Captain Cat – a Sloth with the Mind of a General

Puss in Boots was fluffy, striped, and always on duty. Well, technically on a pillow – because most of the time, he could be found sleeping on the strategy map in the command tent.

But the moment someone said,

"Training is canceled!"

he would open one eye and purr:

"Hmm… Nonsense. Too obvious a trap."

He knew every trail, trick, and tactic within three fields’ radius. Some say he once won a battle without even leaving his chair – he simply sent a squad to the right spot and placed a donut on the map as bait.

The Cat was a genius of stillness. He believed you should lie down and think thoroughly before rushing into anything. His favorite saying:

"A good idea comes… when you’re almost asleep."

Everyone wondered how he always knew where the enemy would be, when it would rain, or when the donuts would burn. He’d just say:

"I feel it with my whiskers. And I’ve got good hearing. Especially when someone says the word ‘snack.’"

He didn’t like yelling. He could convince a soldier to go on a recon mission as if they were heading to a picnic. Even mighty Alangazar once said:

"If the Cat asks – I go. He rarely asks, but he’s always right."

Cinderella loved his short, spot-on reports. One day she asked:

"Why are you always so calm?"

Without even opening his eyes, he replied:

"I just know everything’s going to plan… as long as the map is under me."

The Story of the Bear Cook – Whose Pots Even Obey

No army can last without food. And Cinderella’s troop was well-fed and happy – because the kitchen was ruled by Masha, a mighty bear in a flowered apron and a hat decorated with spoons instead of feathers.

Masha didn’t just make porridge – she ran culinary discipline. No one dared sneak a bun without permission. Anyone who tried got The Glare – and it was filled with stuffing.

Every morning, she greeted the troops with:

"No breakfast – no marching!

And absolutely no coffee on an empty stomach, kittens!"

Her signature dish? Jelly-filled donuts. So soft and delicious, even Fox agreed to do morning stretches afterward. Though he usually tried to bargain:

"Maybe you could just throw me a donut, and I’ll catch it mid-air? That’s almost exercise!"

She’d squint:

"Maybe you could go marching, and then I’ll reward you with a donut?"

And so they lived.

But one day – disaster struck. All the jam berries were gone! Someone had eaten the entire stock.

She roared like a trumpet:

"No jam?! HOW?! It’ll be… just bread! Just plain bread!"

Right away, Quickpaw rustled into the bushes, Alangazar grabbed a basket, and even the Cat went sniffing berry trails. Two hours later, the whole unit returned with buckets full of raspberries, strawberries, and something blue – thankfully edible.

Masha melted:

"Now that’s what I call an army family. Even if someone ate the berries…

together, we find more and save the bread."

From that day on, she made "Friendship Donuts," and Cinderella often came to the mess hall not for orders – but for seconds… or thirds.

The Story of the Fairy – She Fixes Everything But Evil

This fairy wore no wings. She had a toolbelt with hammers, keys, bandages – and even a miniature teapot. Her wand? A screwdriver with a ribbon. Her magic? Pure care.

When the tower clock jammed, she zoomed up the stairs, spoon in hand, whispering:

"Shh… it’s okay, little one. Mama’s here."

When Alangazar’s boot split open, she picked up a needle the size of a shovel and stitched the sole so well, it drummed like a parade drum when he walked.

One day, even Fox was down. Tail dragging. No purring.

Without a word, Sasha placed a warm mug of minty milk in front of him and quietly fixed his favorite compass – the one that always pointed toward… donuts.

He sighed:

"Thanks, Bulka. You can fix even me."

She loved mending things. Turned traps into bird feeders. Broken umbrellas into flags. Broken hearts – into just a little sad, but healing ones.

She also collected sounds: the tower’s creak, the Cat’s purr, Masha’s kitchen door slam.

"Everything’s alive. Everything speaks – if you listen," she’d say.

Cinderella cherished her like a quiet enchantment.

"I have an army," she once said.

"But Masha makes it a home."

Chapter 2:

ERTOSHTUK – HERO OF THE STEPPES AND MOUNTAINS

Era: 9th century

Height: about 3 meters

Origin: from the lineage of ancient giants, son of Earth and Sky

Homeland: the vast Great Steppe and the foothills of the Tien Shan Mountains

Ertoshtuk is a giant among men – tall and broad-shouldered, with a powerful chest.

Though nearly three meters tall, his movements are light, dancer-like – precise and controlled.

His face is sun-kissed, with high cheekbones, thick brows, and serious, eagle-like eyes. Piercing, but not cruel.

Long dark hair tied into a thick braid, woven with a leather strap.

His beard is thick and warrior-like, yet neatly trimmed.

His armor is crafted from hardened leather, brass scales, and bronze plates.

The breastplate bears carvings of the sun, a falcon, and stylized waves.

Pauldrons shaped like lion heads rest on his shoulders.

A broad belt holds his scabbard and several amulets: a bear’s tooth, a sky-blue stone, and a braid from his sister as a talisman.

His shield is round, wooden, bound with iron, and bears a wolf symbol at its center.

His horse is nearly mythical – black as midnight, with a mane that sweeps the ground.

Nearly man-sized, the steed has an intelligent, soulful gaze.

Ertoshtuk can lift the horse in his arms if he must pull it from swamp or battlefield.

His bow is made from yew and horn, adorned with runic patterns – its draw weight is immense, nearly unmatched.

His arrows have white fletching, each with a name: Memory, Wrath, Song.

His saber is long and slightly curved, etched with the form of a serpent along the blade. The hilt is set with turquoise – a symbol of the sky.

On horseback, he moves as if the horse were part of him – riding like a dancer, firing without missing even at full gallop.

Held a mountain pass alone for three days and nights against giants, until reinforcements arrived.

Descended into an underworld to reclaim his sister’s soul – defeated the Stone Sentinel with hollow eyes.

Freed an entire village on his own by lifting a fallen tower onto his shoulders and holding it while the children escaped.

Once, like in a tale, he spoke to a bird, who guided him to the enemy’s heart.

Calm as a mountain lake – but in fury, a storm.

Wise, a man of few but thoughtful words.

Respects women, elders, and children.

Believes true strength is in the heart, not the fist.

Cinderella. Cinderella’s camp.

Morning began with its usual hustle in Cinderella’s camp.

Soldiers were marching, orders rang out sharply, and someone had already dropped a steaming kettle of buckwheat stew in the mess hall. Cooks were cursing, recruits slipping in porridge, and Alangazar was wiping cabbage off the wall, looking guilty.

When Cinderella stepped into her headquarters, everyone snapped to attention.

She wore impeccable military attire: a dark blue coat with golden buttons, a belt with a crest, and polished boots.

The uniform not only conveyed command – it suited her. Especially the elegant officer's beret with an emerald clasp.

– Stand down. Documents on the table, – she said calmly.

First on her desk was Alangazar’s leave request. As per protocol, the giant was due rest after the latest exercises.

She signed with a flourish – he beamed and rolled off toward the forest for firewood and fresh air.

Then entered her adjutant – a lean and diligent lieutenant named Guzel – with a new folder.

– Recruit paperwork: Lieutenant Ertoshtuk. Special request. His story is… quite unusual.

Cinderella flipped through the file. Amid reports and assessments, there was a letter – handwritten in a strong, elegant script.

It began:

“When I was a boy, a witch came to our aul. She told my father:

‘Give me the boy – and you may live.’

My father knew he couldn’t defeat her. But he didn’t give me to the witch – he gave me to fate.

He hid a dagger by the roadside and sent me after her, knowing the witch would wait in the form of an old woman…”

Cinderella raised an eyebrow and kept reading.

Young Ertoshtuk rode and saw an old woman sitting by the road, looking tired – like a kind granny from a story.

But something felt… wrong.

Then he spotted the gleam of a dagger hidden in the moss – his father's gift.

– Grandmother, could you hand me that dagger? – he asked politely.

– Boy, croaked the woman, if I sit, I won’t rise again… if I rise, I won’t sit again…

He didn’t dismount.

He leaned down, grabbed the dagger himself – and in that instant, the “granny” became a witch:

Her cloak turned into storm clouds, her hands into claws, her eyes flashed green fire.

He spurred his horse – they fled, the witch close behind.

– Earth, open! – he cried in desperation.

And the ground split open under the horse's hooves.

He fell into darkness – into the underworld of giants and flame serpents.

There, through trial and battle, he grew – in strength, in spirit, in skill.

When he emerged, he was no longer a boy – but a man, quiet-eyed and steady.

Now he had returned – and was requesting service in Cinderella’s army.

“And then, if you permit, I will return to my homeland…”

– the letter concluded modestly.

He never mentioned that he had fallen in love with Cinderella from the first tale he heard of her.

He simply ended with a beautiful, deliberate period.

Cinderella paused, a faint smile flickering across her face.

She closed the folder and placed it carefully in her drawer.

– Enlist him, she said. And tell him to come by – I want to speak with him myself.

The adjutant nodded and left.

Cinderella looked out the window: soldiers drilled on the parade ground, Alangazar had already dropped another kettle, and far off on the road, a figure approached – wearing a dark cloak and a silver-bladed sword on his back.

The office was quiet.

Cinderella and Ertochtuk

Through the open window, soft sounds drifted in —

the click of boots,

the thud of training swords,

and the smell of freshly watered grass lingered in the air.

Cinderella stood by the window, thoughtful.

Her uniform, the color of field cornflowers, shimmered slightly in the morning sun.

A command tablet hung from her belt, and beside it lay a stack of papers and a cup of cooling tea.

She watched drills, bustle, life outside —

but inside, she held a sliver of quiet.

Suddenly – a knock.

She turned, calm as ever.

– Enter, she said.

The door opened, and a young man stood there – tall, clear-eyed, with a shy smile.

He held his cap respectfully in both hands.

– Ertoshtuk? – she looked up.

– Yes, Commander Cinderella. Good morning, – he nodded slightly, hesitant.

– Come in.

He stepped closer, and his presence filled the room —

fresh, like mountain air.

There was something honest about him, like in children – or the rare brave souls unafraid to be kind.

– I read your file, – she said, flipping papers, though already watching him directly.

– Quite a story. Underground trials, battles with giants… you showed both wit and courage.

He looked away, blushing slightly.

Then, after a pause, softly:

– It was my father… He left me the dagger. I just didn’t want to let him down.

Cinderella smiled gently.

– Family honor is a strong reason. I like warriors who speak from the heart.

– You’re young, but you’ve seen much. So tell me – why join our ranks? You’re not from here.

He paused. His hands tensed just a little.

– Because… – he looked up,

– Here, I feel useful. And here – I can learn.

I want to return home stronger one day.

But for now – I need to grow.

The silence that followed felt bright.

And within it – respect.

Cinderella nodded, her gaze softening – no longer just a commander.

—

Well then… Welcome to the regiment, Ertoshtuk.

You’ll be of value. And I believe – you’ll find something here too.

He straightened, drew a deep breath,

and in his bow was more than formality —

there was gratitude, trust, and a beginning.

– Thank you, Commander.

He left.

Cinderella stood quietly, watching the closed door.

Outside, orders rang out, boots stomped —

the morning went on.

But in her heart, a warm note lingered.

Perhaps, indeed – a day that starts with paperwork

can end with a new friendship.

Ertoshstuk and the Underground Mission

It hadn’t been long since Ertoshstuk joined Cinderella’s service.

But already, everyone in the regiment knew his name.

More than that – they respected him.

For the way he silently helped carry the heavy burdens.

For his restraint, and his quiet kindness.

For how he listened.

And – somehow – for the light he seemed to carry inside.

Something unexplainable.

He trained with Alangazar.

They became friends – the kind who could share silence,

split a loaf of bread,

and laugh at the same silly joke again and again.

Alangazar taught him to throw spears – with force, from the shoulder.

He showed him how to lift boulders with one hand.

And Ertoshstuk, in return,

taught the giant to walk gently,

to stop trampling the flowers in the command garden…

Though the flowerbeds still suffered. Five times. Maybe six.

One early morning,

Cinderella summoned Ertoshstuk to headquarters.

Sunlight glinted on the golden buttons of her uniform.

A breeze stirred the delicate curtain at the window.

On the table lay an ancient map,

faded,

with torn edges.

Strange markings covered it —

and one stood out above all:

an entrance to the Underworld.

“You know these lands,” she said softly.

“We need to find out what’s happening in the old tunnels.

Are you ready?”

He nodded silently.

Something tightened inside him —

not from fear,

but from memory.

He hadn’t been there since that battle.

Since the day he left the darkness and chose the light.

And now – a return.

He gathered a team:

The White Giant – shy, with kind eyes and a pouch of dried apples.

The Blue Giant – cheerful as a mischievous wind,

able to sing with icy breath and scare the kitchen cooks into hiccups.

And they left.

To the place where night never ends.

Where stones remember the steps of ancient beings.

Underground, everything changed.

Tunnels – brittle as eggshells.

Halls – empty.

And the dead…

They didn’t attack.

They simply stood.

Eyes full of sorrow.

Ertoshstuk didn’t raise his sword.

He stepped closer.

Spoke almost in a whisper:

“You are tired.

You’ve guarded what no longer needs guarding.

It’s time to rest.”

And they faded.

Dissolving into the soft air, like candle smoke.

But there were trials.

Traps, pits,

spiders with eyes like saucers.

And wonders.

Mirrors that showed not reflection – but dreams.

Coins that rang only at a kind touch.

Stones that sang, if you weren’t afraid.

When they returned,

with the first morning birds,

Ertoshstuk was no longer the same.

He carried no gold.

But his gaze – sure.

And inside him – stillness.

Wisdom, not from books.

He was appointed commander of the expeditionary corps.

Cinderella said:

“You know the tunnels better than anyone.

But more importantly – you know yourself.”

On the third day of his new duty,

she summoned him again.

This time the morning was brighter,

and new marks dotted the map.

“Ertoshstuk,” she said, not turning, looking out the window,

“In the depths beyond the Black Crag, something has awakened again.

The dead – but they’re no longer guards.

Scrolls are hidden there. Words of ancient power.

Not for treasure. For protection.”

She turned. Calm worry in her eyes.

“Are you ready to descend again?”

He didn’t answer right away.

But inside, the reply was already burning —

clear. Warm. Simple.

“Yes.”

Into the Deep, Where Even Shadows Fear the Light

Ertoshstuk’s eyes flared.

Not with fear.

With recognition.

He knew these lands.

The smell of cold stone.

The silence that breathes.

The cracks in the walls

where memory hides.

He was born in a realm where birds do not sing.

He grew up among the dead.

And he knew how to move

so that even shadows wouldn’t notice.

“I’m ready,” he nodded.

“I’ll need companions.

The kind who won’t betray – in darkness or fire.”

He stepped forward and said:

“The White Giant.

He lifts a boulder like a child lifts a toy.

But his soul is quiet – full of herbs and stillness.

He does not love noise. He heals.

The Blue Giant.

He steps like snow in March – soft, silent.

But when he speaks… his voice wakes stone. And conscience.

He sings when fear comes – and the fear flees.”

Cinderella listened silently.

Her fingers brushed the map,

but her gaze was fixed on Ertoshstuk.

“Approved,” she said, and in her smile,

something human trembled.

“Just… promise me. Come back.”

He nodded, just barely.

Not loudly. So as not to betray

the real reason he wanted to return.

Something deeper than command.

Deeper than duty.

He wanted to return —

for her.

They packed quickly.

Silently, smoothly.

Herbs, ropes, dried berries, knives, amulets.

The Blue Giant fastened his icy horn to his belt,

and the White one tucked a handkerchief into his pack —

embroidered by his little sister.

At the last moment, someone else joined them —

a girl from the artillery company.

Ria. Thin as a birch sapling,

but sharp with her sling —

as if the stones knew where to fly.

“If the dead are memories,” she said,

“then I know how to fight memories.”

And no one disagreed.

The dungeon did not greet them with a growl —

but with breath.

Slow.

Deep.

It was cold there.

And echoing.

Drops fell from the ceiling —

each one counting down to something important.

The walls were covered in moss, glowing green.

It pulsed, like living skin.

The air was thick —

as though the world itself moved slower here.

Ertoshstuk ran his hand along the stone.

“Here,” he whispered, “I once ate bread from ashes.

Here I defeated a giant for the first time.

But now…

it’s different.”

He wasn’t looking at the walls.

He was looking inward.

Torchlight trembled.

Behind him, the Blue Giant sang softly —

a song in an old language.

The White Giant walked silently.

And Ria – her sling at the ready.

Ahead lay darkness.

But not emptiness.

Within it – their past.

And their future.

At the third bend, the tunnel narrowed.

The stone beneath their feet was slick as ice.

The air thickened.

Torchlight flickered, as if afraid to go on.

And then – silence tore open with a rustle.

From the darkness, the dead emerged.

Their eyes shone – not with life, but emptiness.

No pain. No fear. Only silent purpose —

as if some wicked will drove them forward.

Ertoshstuk stepped ahead.

In his hand – a sword, old and scarred by battles —

the same one that had once saved his life.

Now it felt heavy,

but within that weight – the strength of everyone he had ever protected.

He cried out – not in rage, but in loyalty.

A cry like a heartbeat:

“For the living! For the light!”

And charged into battle.

The White Giant didn’t hesitate —

with a thunderous roar, he ripped stones from the wall

and hurled them at the advancing dead.

Each strike – an earthquake.

And the Blue Giant…

He sang.

Not words – power.

Not song – spell.

His voice stirred the stones,

as if the earth itself remembered how to beat.

The battle was long.

Blood – dark as night.

Blows – deep as fate’s tolling bell.

Ertoshstuk fought not with blade – but with heart.

He let not one undead touch his friends.

He was the shield. He was the flame.

And when the last guardian fell,

dissolving into dust,

a treasure hall opened before them.

But the silence there – was different.

Earned.

Peaceful. Like a temple.

Chests of gold.

Blades gleaming like dawn.

Ancient books – spells forgotten by time.

But most of all…

Among the ashes and light lay a scroll.

On it – words that made Ertoshstuk’s heart tremble:

“He who is unafraid

can protect the whole world.”

He looked at it for a long time.

Then picked up the scroll and said, quietly but firmly:

“We are not thieves. We are warriors.

We do not steal.

We guard.”

He took only what he could carry on his back.

And left the rest untouched.

Thus ended their journey.

And thus began their return.

To the light.

To Cinderella.

To those waiting at the gate.

And to a new chapter in a wondrous story,

where courage mattered more than gold,

and a heart – was stronger than any sword.

Chapter 3: Night

Night descended softly,

like a velvet blanket.

Stars spilled across the sky —

silent, as if afraid to disturb

those sitting by the fire.

The flames crackled —

warm, cozy, like home.

The fire danced in Cinderella’s eyes,

reflected on Alangazar’s cheek,

and cast light on Ertoshtuk’s shoulders

as he sat with a mug of tea in his hands.

Fox had settled closer to the fire,

wrapped his tail snugly around himself

and squinted slyly.

– “One day,” he began,

and even the flames seemed to pause to listen.

– “It was just like a fairy tale!

I was walking through the forest – calm, slow.

Suddenly – wham!

There it was, hanging from a branch:

long, juicy… a sausage!

Like a holiday garland!”c

He clicked his teeth for effect.

– “So I didn’t hesitate – chomp!

Right into my mouth.

I thought: ‘Well, fate sure has a delicious sense of humor!’”

Laughter fluttered around the circle,

like a breeze across the grass.

—

“But let me tell you – the joy was short,

as short as a rabbit’s tail,”

Fox continued, now warmed up.

—

“Out of the bushes – bam!

Come Wolf, Tiger… and Lion.

Three faces. All serious – like tax collectors.

They stare at me and say:

‘Hey, Fox, what’re you chewing so politely?’”

Cinderella smiled, hugging her knees.

Alangazar snorted, anticipating the twist.

– “I’m no fool, of course. I tell them:

‘This isn’t food! It’s a magic scarf!

I bite it – I’m full. I wrap it back up – I move on!’”

– “Oh wow!” Ertoshtuk snorted.

– “And then…” Fox drew out the pause,

glancing at each of them.

– “While they were feeling my ‘scarf’ and dreaming about it,

I – zip! – into the bushes. With the sausage!

They’re probably still looking for the recipe…”

Laughter sparkled through the air,

like flying sparks.

Alangazar slapped his knee:

– “You sly fox!

A sausage-scarf – that’s genius!”

– “A clever nose always knows where dinner’s warm,”

Fox said meaningfully,

and took a satisfied sip of tea.

The fire shimmered.

A star fell.

The night embraced them all.

And in the silence after the laughter,

there was space for warmth.

For friendship.

And for fairy tales.

The Story of the Ertoshtuk

– “The key is cleverness!” said Fox proudly, eyeing everyone,

and then nodded toward Ertoshtuk.

– “And you, dungeon hero – got a story for us?”

– “Tell us,” Cinderella chimed in.

– “Yes, please,” whispered Fox, getting comfortable.

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 —

that’s her, watching you and smiling.”

A long silence rested over the fire.

A kind, glowing silence.

Cinderella gazed at the sky,

and a tiny tear sparkled on Fox’s cheek.

– “That was beautiful,” Cinderella whispered.

– “Warm… and sad.”

– “Thank you, Ertoshtuk,” said Fox,

scratching behind his ear to hide his emotion.

– “You’re not just a warrior.

You’re a true storyteller.”

The fire sighed, the stars whispered.

And in every heart around the fire —

a drop of light remained.

The light of that girl on the Moon.

The Story of Alangazar

Alangazar slowly rose from the log. The firelight flickered across his broad face. He looked around at his friends, straightened up, and announced solemnly:

"Now listen to my tale. It’s a story my great-grandfather used to tell me when I was little.

Oh, what a giant he was!

He was so strong—

when he washed his hands, rivers changed their course!"

Everyone laughed, and Alangazar, pleased with the reaction, went on:

"When he was young, he wasn’t just strong—he was curiously strong. One day he decided to find out who was stronger: him… or a human.

Just out of curiosity!

So he walks through the forest and sees a hunter.

Looks ordinary. Skinny, even.

But there’s a spark in his eye."

"He caught him?" Fox gasped. "Like a rabbit?"

"Almost," Alangazar chuckled. "Great-granddad walks right up and says,

‘Alright, strongman—let’s test our might!’

And the hunter, without blinking, replies,

‘Who are you? Show me what you’ve got first.’"

"And did he?" Cinderella asked, her eyes shining.

"Oh, he sure did!" the giant declared proudly.

"With one hand, he yanked a tree out of the ground.

With the other—bam!—he hit a cliff so hard it cracked, and birds flew screaming from the trees!

Then he jumped—

and landed with such force he sank knee-deep into the earth!"

"Wow!" Fox breathed, her paws pressed to her chest.

"And the hunter?" Ertoshtuk asked, narrowing his eyes with interest.

Alangazar smirked:

"The hunter just brushed some dust off his shoulder.

And says: ‘That’s nothing. Let me show you real strength.’

He stomps his foot—

the ground trembles—

and from under the roots—blorp!—

comes bubbling up this white, foamy liquid."

"Eeek!" squealed Fox. "What was that?!"

"The hunter says,

‘Now that’s strength! I cracked the earth so hard, even its brains came out!’

My great-granddad’s eyes went wide, his back hunched—

and he ran! Ran so fast the wind couldn’t catch him!"

Everyone burst out laughing. Someone even clapped their hands.

"But what was it really?" Cinderella asked, laughing through her surprise.

"It was," Alangazar roared with laughter,

"ayran!

There was a goatskin nearby.

The hunter had stomped on it—pssshh!

It took great-granddad years to figure out the trick.

And when he did, he laughed so hard the neighbors' pinecones dropped from their trees!"

"Unbelievable!" Fox said in awe. "So sometimes wit is stronger than strength!"

"Ever since then," Alangazar winked,

"Great-granddad always sniffed the air before a contest—

just to check if it smelled like ayran!"

Laughter broke out again. Someone slapped their knee, another sipped their tea.

The night was clear. Stars shimmered kindly above.

The fire crackled softly, as if it too held onto these old, joyful stories,

while one by one, the storytellers shared their light with their friends.

How Cinderella Wanted to Become a Fairy

Cinderella adjusted the shoulders of her uniform, smiled softly, and looked at the crackling fire.

The flames reflected in her eyes – as if they, too, were waiting for a little magic.

– Well then, – she said, – my turn. Want to hear how, as a little girl, I dreamed of becoming… a fairy?

– A fairy?! – Alangazar, Ertoshtuk, and Fox cried out in chorus. – But you’re a commander!

– Yep, a commander, – Cinderella nodded. – But when I was six, I was sure I’d grow up to be a fairy, just like my godmother.

True, I had no wings, no wand.

But I had imagination – more than an entire enchanted army put together!

– Go on, go on! – Fox curled her tail tightly with excitement.

– I found an old broom, wrapped it in tinsel, and stuck a pot on my head – instead of a helmet.

Threw mom’s bedspread over my shoulders – like a real fairy cloak.

And off I went through the village… to make miracles!

The first giggles started by the fire.

– First, I tried to enchant the neighbor’s goat. I wanted her to fly.

So I tied some balloons to her…

But she clearly wasn’t ready for takeoff.

She jumped straight into the laundry bucket!

– Ha! – Ertoshtuk snorted. – That’s the “Fly-and-Dip” spell!

– Exactly! – Cinderella laughed. – Then I decided to turn our chicken into a princess.

I smeared glitter on her head, and hung mom’s beads around her neck.

The chicken got offended, ran into the barn – and started such an egg-party, the whole village came to watch!

– And your parents? – asked Fox, wiping tears of laughter.

– My stepmother wanted to scold me at first…

But when she saw me standing proud in a pot, draped in tinsel, next to a sparkling chicken – she just threw up her hands and laughed.

With everyone else.

And right then I thought:

Maybe I won’t become a real fairy…

But if I can make people smile —

isn’t that magic too?

Alangazar nodded with respect:

– I agree. A cheerful heart is stronger than any spell.

They all fell quiet for a moment.

The fire crackled gently.

The night wrapped around their camp like a soft, fluffy blanket.

Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.

And above them – high as childhood dreams – the stars shimmered softly.

The Prince’s Funny Tale

The Prince stretched, adjusted his cloak, and smiled:

– Since everyone’s sharing stories… I guess I have to confess something too.

When I was little, we had… a rooster in the palace.

A regular rooster.

But for some reason – he decided he was the Guardian of the Throne.

– A rooster? Guardian of the throne?! – Alangazar roared with laughter.

– Yep! He guarded the throne room and wouldn’t let anyone in. Not even the king!

If someone came too close – he’d charge, flap his wings, and crow like he was challenging them to a duel.

– And what did you do? – asked Ertoshtuk, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

– I put on armor, a helmet two sizes too big, grabbed a wooden sword, and marched out to face him.

Picture this: me, an eight-year-old knight, against the rooster of doom!

We circled each other…

I tripped and fell,

and he – sat on my head.

Like a champion.

The servants laughed for a week straight!

– So who won in the end? – Cinderella giggled.

– My mom.

She came in, tossed the rooster a handful of grain – and he surrendered immediately.

That’s when I realized… sometimes, kindness wins where strength fails.

Especially if it comes with breakfast.

Laughter rippled around the fire. Even the flames seemed to crackle with joy.

The Prince’s Gentle Fairy Tale

The Prince grew quiet for a moment. His voice softened:

– When I was very little, I used to have the same dream.

I was in a garden, filled with glowing trees,

and there was a bird singing.

But it wasn’t a song – not really.

It was telling a story.

– What story? – asked Fox, tilting her head.

– A story about a girl with a kind heart.

She helped others – even when she was struggling herself.

And the bird said:

"When you find her, you’ll be truly happy."

The Prince looked at Cinderella and smiled gently.

– And then… I met her at the ball.

And I understood:

Sometimes, fairy tales don’t live only in dreams.

Cinderella blushed just a little,

but smiled back – warm and real.

The fire grew quieter, cozier.

Like it, too, felt the truth of a tender moment between true friends —

and something more.

The Story of the Blue Giant

The Blue Giant lived in a place where the sky was reflected in the earth.

The grass there wasn’t green, but turquoise.

And even the trees shimmered with a blueish glow.

The Blue Giant wasn’t always blue.

He became blue after a great sadness settled in his chest,

and refused to leave.

It wasn’t just any sadness.

It was the kind that seeps into your bones,

like cold wind into a cracked window.

Before that, he had been the Laughing Giant.

His laughter rolled through the valleys like thunder,

waking up lazy bears,

and sending foxes tumbling head over paws in surprise.

He loved songs and jokes,

knew hundreds of them—maybe thousands!

His voice could tickle the sky,

and it would answer him with flocks of birds.

But then something changed.

One winter, a little girl wandered into the mountains.

She wasn’t dressed for the cold.

No mittens. No hat. Just red boots,

and a bell around her neck that jingled like a tiny chime.

She knocked on the Giant’s chest three times—

and asked for fire.

She didn’t ask for help.

Didn’t cry.

Didn’t say where she came from.

Just asked for fire.

And the Giant gave it to her.

He gave her part of his heart,

because it was the warmest thing he had.

She cupped it in her hands and said:

– “Thank you, Mister Giant. That’s enough.”

And then she vanished.

After that, the Giant’s chest grew cold.

Too cold for laughter.

Too cold for song.

So, he sat down among the blue trees

and didn’t move for many years.

His hair turned into icicles.

His eyes reflected snow.

Even the birds stopped visiting.

That’s when the Mamyts found him.

They didn’t knock.

They just climbed up and sat quietly on his shoulders.

Didn’t ask him to laugh.

Didn’t beg for stories.

Just warmed his back with their furry bellies

and whispered things like:

– “You’re still good.”

– “We’re not afraid of your quiet.”

– “Let’s just sit here together a while.”

And they did.

For a long time.

Until, one spring,

a giggle escaped the Giant’s lips.

Just a little one.

Soft and clumsy.

But the trees heard it—

and bloomed in a blush of pale blue flowers.

And the Mamyts?

They grinned.

Because they knew:

even a silent heart remembers how to laugh if someone waits with it long enough.

The White Giant Tells a Tale: The Ice Fish

The White Giant scratched his head and said:

– "Once, I caught… the silliest fish in the world!

My brother, the Blue Giant, and I were fishing on the Lake of Silence.

And suddenly—I pulled out… an ice block.

And inside it—frozen solid—was a fish!"

– "Frozen?" gasped Ertoshtuk.

– "Yes! And guess what? I dropped it into warm water—

and it came back to life!

It blinked, looked at me, and said:

‘You’ve caught me, Giant. Now make a wish!’

And I panicked and said: ‘I want lots of carrot pie!’"

– "And then?" asked Cinderella.

– "The fish said, ‘Wish granted!’—and jumped right back into the lake.

I didn’t understand… until I saw a hare dash up to the pastry stall in the village,

grab a carrot pie,

and deliver it straight to me—before hopping away again.

Ever since that day—I believe in miracles.

Even a silly fish can work a bit of magic!"

Everyone laughed—

even Ertoshtuk smiled a little.

Kayran spoke softly:

– "I used to be just a boy.

I played in the forest, caught dragonflies, built little huts from branches.

But one day… I fell into a deep pit.

It was the entrance to an underground world.

Down there—it was quiet.

I called out for help, but no one came.

So I just… stayed.

Built a little house from glowing stones,

befriended the bats,

and slowly learned the language of the underground rivers."

– "Weren’t you lonely?" asked Cinderella.

– "At first—yes.

But then… I began to hear sounds from above.

Laughter. Voices.

One voice stood out—it was Ertoshtuk.

He had ended up down here too, while running from a witch.

That’s how we became friends."

– "But how did you become a spirit?" whispered the Fox.

– "You know… I didn’t even notice at first.

I just stayed too long.

But I’m not angry.

I’m not scary.

Now I help the lost ones—like I once was.

I show them secret paths.

I guard hidden treasures,

so the bad ones don’t take them."

He smiled.

– "And now, sometimes… I come up to the surface.

To sit by the fire.

To listen to stories.

It feels like being alive again—if only for a while."

The Blue Giant gently held out a mug of warm compote.

It passed through Kayran’s hand—

but he nodded in thanks.

– "Thank you for listening,"

he said,

and faded into the night—

leaving behind a faint, shimmering glow.

Cinderella’s Fireside Tale: “How Masha Became a Bear”

The fire crackled softly.

Sparks rose into the sky.

Everyone sat quietly, wrapped in blankets and shawls.

Then Cinderella looked into the flames and said:

– “I have a story.

It’s magical… a little sad,

but with a gentle ending.

It happened deep in a forest,

where one day a little girl named Masha got lost.”

She had gone out to pick berries and mushrooms,

but couldn’t find her way home.

She wandered, called out, cried—

but no one answered.

And just when she was completely worn out,

a kind old bear appeared beside her.

– “Are you alone?” he asked.

– “Yes,” Masha whispered. “I’m lost.”

And the bear took her with him.

He had a family:

a mama bear, twin bear cubs, and a grandpa bear.

They lived in a cozy den,

ate honey, and roasted chestnuts over the fire.

Masha stayed with them—

for a day, then two,

then a whole week…

and soon, the entire winter.

– “She helped the bears,

washed the cubs’ paws,

sang lullabies,

made pinecone soup,

and told stories.

She lived among them for so long,

and loved them so much,

that little by little… she began to change.”

Her ears grew softer.

Her nose stretched a little.

Her steps grew heavy, like a bear’s.

And one spring morning,

she looked into a puddle and saw her reflection—

and there, instead of a little girl…

was a young bear.

– “Was she scared?” whispered the Fox.

– “No,” Cinderella smiled.

“She smiled at her reflection.

Because she understood:

this was her family.

And it wasn’t a curse—

it was a gift.”

“Since then,

she lives in the forest,

protects little ones,

guides lost wanderers,

and sings her old human songs in the evenings.

Sometimes there’s a touch of sadness in her voice—

but more often, there’s kindness.”

– “Can she become human again?” asked Ertoshtuk.

– “She can,” said Cinderella gently.

“But you know…

for now,

she doesn’t want to.”

Masha Speaks by the Fire

When Cinderella finished telling the story about the girl who became a bear, everyone sat in silence.

The flames crackled quietly.

Someone cupped a mug of hot tea.

The Fox whispered:

– “What a story… real magic…”

And just then, from the shadows, stepped a broad-shouldered, furry, yet very tidy cook in a fluffed-up apron and a cheerful voice.

She set a pot over the fire and suddenly laughed:

– “That was me!” she said, wiping her paws. “I’m Masha – the bear-cook of the regiment!”

Everyone turned to her at once.

– “What? You?!” gasped Ertoshtuk.

– “The one from the story?” said Alangazar, scratching his chin.

– “Why didn’t you ever tell us?” asked the Prince.

– “Ah, there wasn’t much to tell,” Masha chuckled.

“I was just a girl back then.

And yes, I lived in the forest with the bears for a long time.

They taught me everything:

how to cook porridge,

pick berries,

start a smokeless fire.

I thought I’d stay there forever…

But then one day, a young, brave Cinderella came into the forest and asked me to join her enchanted regiment.

So I returned to the world of people.

Though sometimes at night, my little bear tail still tickles – it hasn’t fully forgotten…”

– “And your ears are still a bit round,” the Fox whispered.

– “And your paws make the best soup in the entire camp,” added the Prince.

– “So you’re both a human and a bear?” asked Ertoshtuk with respect.

– “Mostly,” said Masha with pride, “I’m a cook.

And to anyone who’s hungry – I’m a friend.”

That night, the soup pot was especially delicious.

Even Alangazar asked for thirds.

And Cinderella thanked Masha – not as a commander,

but as a friend.

Masha the Bear: Her Second Tale

Once upon a time, in the great Forest Kingdom,

there lived a bear.

But not just any bear – a special one.

Her name was Masha the Bear.

When she wished,

she was brown and furry,

with paws like cushions.

And when she chose,

she became a girl – graceful, bright-eyed,

with eyes the color of honey at sunset.

She could do everything:

climb trees,

make raspberry soup,

talk to squirrels,

dance with owls,

and of course – shift forms…

but only when her heart whispered it was time.

One day, as the pines were singing of spring, two visitors entered the forest.

The first was Arthur – a young man in a white cloak.

A cousin of the prince-king.

Polite, poetic, with a scent of almonds and verses in his pocket.

He came for a hunt,

but didn’t wish to harm a thing.

He was searching… for wonder.

The second was Medan —

a mighty bear from the northern mountains.

His fur was like frost-kissed twilight.

His eyes – like fire-lit caves.

He never spoke words,

but each of his paws was a promise to protect.

Both met Masha.

– “Who are you?” asked Arthur, seeing her in girl form by the stream.

– “I am one who lives by the voice of her heart,” she answered.

– “Who are you?” asked Medan, meeting her near the hives,

when she wore her bear form.

She said nothing —

just touched his nose with her paw.

And he understood everything.

Each night she danced in the meadow.

At first – for Arthur:

gentle steps, soft laughter, words like music.

Then – with Medan:

deep turns, breath like wind, two silent souls moving as one.

One gave her earrings of lunar silver.

The other – a stone from the mountain where he was born.

And one day, beneath the great tree,

Masha brought them both together.

– “I can be a bear. I can be a girl.

But I cannot become someone just for you,” she said.

“I will choose the one who loves all of me.”

A pause.

The forest listened.

Arthur bowed his head.

– “I fell in love with the girl.

I would wish you to be human – always.”

Medan was silent.

Then he lay down in the grass beside her.

– “I love you.

Whichever you are.

That’s what matters.”

And then…

Masha transformed again.

But not into a bear,

not into a girl—

but into herself.

Whole.

With a body that echoed the forest,

and a voice that rang like sunlight.

And sometimes,

in the royal gardens,

you might spot a young lady with sparkling eyes,

stroking the grass with a paw like a velvet cushion,

laughing as if she knows a little more than she lets on.

That’s Masha.

She can still become whatever she wishes.

But most of all —

she is fully, truly herself.

The Tale of the White Giant:

Where the Wind Comes to Rest

A warm scent drifted from the fire – sharp like juniper,

and slightly sweet, like dried raspberries.

Masha quietly poured herbal tea into mugs.

The rising steam curled gently upward – straight to the stars.

The White Giant sat a little apart, on a pile of pine logs.

He didn’t eat. He didn’t drink.

He just gazed into the dark sky,

where distant, unhurried worlds shimmered.

His palms rested on his knees.

His breath was steady.

As if everything inside him… had already settled.

As if he knew.

Accepted.

He didn’t speak at once.

First – silence.

Then – a voice.

Low, like an old pine groaning in a morning forest.

But warm.

Calm.

Alive.

– “When I was young…”

(Yes, yes – he smiled slightly, and light settled into the folds of his cheeks.)

“I was young once, too.

And one day… I found myself in a place

you couldn’t imagine – not even in dreams.”

Everyone fell still.

Even the tea stopped steaming —

as if it, too, was listening.

Only the sparks from the fire crackled softly —

like the whisper of time.

– “It was far. In the north.

Where night stretches on for months.

Where icy ridges scratch the sky,

and the wind sings songs without words.

I walked alone, through the blizzard.

In white silence.

“And then… I felt it.

The air shivered.”

He paused.

The Fox tucked in his tail and whispered:

– “And what happened?”

– “A staircase,” said the Giant. “Invisible.

Hanging from the clouds like a ribbon of mist.

I reached out – and touched the wind.

Then I began to climb.”

He fell silent again.

Everyone waited —

even breath itself seemed to pause.

– “I climbed… to where the wind comes to rest,” he said.

“There, cloud-islands drifted – like sleeping whales.

And on one of them… lived a flock of birds.

Bodies like falcons.

But their heads —

like old men, silver-haired and wise.”

– “Elder birds?” Cinderella whispered, leaning closer.

– “Yes.

They spoke only in verse.

One of them looked straight into my heart

and said:

‘You seek great power – but strength is still.

He who rushes upward may stumble downhill.

Know why you walk – and the path will appear.

But if you don’t learn… you’ll remain here.’

Silence returned.

Gentle.

Reverent.

Like in a temple.

– “I sat,” the Giant murmured.

“For a long time.

Listened to the clouds.

And I understood:

I hadn’t come for wonders.

Not for glory.

I came…

because my heart had asked,

‘What else is there?’

And it couldn’t sleep without an answer.”

He placed a hand on his chest.

Then – slowly, as if revealing a secret —

he took a tiny stone from his pocket.

Almost a speck.

And it glowed.

Softly, like a firefly.

Warmly,

like a mother’s hands in childhood.

– “It stayed with me.

When I came back – the staircase was gone.

But the stone… remained.

“Here on Earth, it becomes light.

Sometimes… I leave it by the pillows

of sleeping soldiers.

Especially those who fight harder in dreams

than when they’re awake.

The light helps ease their burdens.”

The Prince sat silent, eyes half-closed.

The Fox sighed – deeply. Truly.

Masha looked at the stone

as if it had fallen from the stars.

As if it were a promise.

Cinderella smiled softly:

– “So… you’ve been there.

Where the wind comes to rest.”

The White Giant didn’t answer.

He only looked to the sky.

And there —

in that very moment —

a single star drifted slowly across.

As if someone, very wise… and very light…

had silently waved to them from above.

The Tale of the Blue Giant:

The City Made of Sound

The fire crackled softly.

Sparks drifted lazily upward, vanishing into the dark sky.

Even the shadows seemed to freeze, clinging to the trees —

as if listening.

– “Who will tell the next story?” – asked the Fox,

casting a sly glance at the Blue Giant.

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