The Fox Who Guarded the Bridge

The Bridge Nobody Crossed

Beyond the village of Thornbrook ran a deep, fast river, and across the river stretched a single old stone bridge. It led to the Far Side, where the rare and silvery moonleaf grew — the only herb in the world that could cure the worst of fevers.

But no one in Thornbrook ever crossed that bridge. For on the bridge lived a fox.

He was a large fox with fur the colour of rust and embers, and eyes as bright and sharp as two new coins. He could talk, which was strange enough, but stranger still, he would let no one pass unless they answered his riddles. And his riddles, everyone said, were impossible.

Pim's Trouble

Now there was a boy in Thornbrook named Pim, and Pim had a little sister called Wren whom he loved more than anything. One cold week, Wren caught a fever so fierce that the village healer shook her head and said, "There is nothing I can give her. Only moonleaf would help. And moonleaf grows only on the Far Side, beyond the fox's bridge."

Pim did not even pause. He wrapped a loaf of bread in a cloth, kissed his sleeping sister's forehead, and set off for the bridge before anyone could stop him.

The Fox on the Stones

The fox was waiting in the middle of the bridge, curled up on the cold stones, his tail wrapped neatly around his paws.

"Well, well," said the fox, opening one bright eye. "A traveller. My name is Rust, and this is my bridge. You may cross — if you can answer my riddle. Fail, and you must turn back. Those are the rules."

Pim's heart hammered. "Please," he said. "My sister is very sick. I only need to gather some moonleaf and come straight home. Couldn't you just let me past?"

"Rules are rules," said Rust, though his ear twitched. "Everyone says please. Everyone has a reason. Answer my riddle, boy, or go home empty-handed."

Pim swallowed hard. "All right," he said. "Ask me your riddle."

The Riddle

Rust sat up tall, and his eyes glittered. "Here it is," he said.

"The more you take of me, the more you leave behind. What am I?"

Pim frowned. He thought about gold — but the more gold you took, the less you left behind. He thought about water, about time, about shadows. None of them fit.

He looked down at his own muddy boots on the cold stone bridge. He thought about the long road from Thornbrook, each step he had taken to get here, each mark his boots had pressed into the dirt behind him.

"Footsteps," Pim said slowly. "The more steps you take, the more footprints you leave behind. The answer is footsteps."

For a long moment Rust said nothing. Then his whiskers lifted in something very like a smile. "Footsteps," he murmured. "It has been a hundred years since anyone answered me. You are a clever one, Pim."

More Than Cleverness

Pim moved to cross — but then he stopped. The fox was thin. His ribs showed through his rust-red fur, and his eyes, for all their sharpness, looked tired and terribly lonely.

"Rust," said Pim, "why do you guard this bridge all alone? Doesn't anyone ever stay to talk to you?"

The fox blinked, surprised. "Stay? No one stays. They answer or they fail, and either way they hurry off and leave me. I have guarded this bridge so long that I have quite forgotten what a friend feels like." He looked away. "Riddles are all I have left to make travellers stop, even for a moment."

Pim's heart ached. He sat down right there on the cold stones beside the fox, unwrapped his loaf of bread, and broke it in two.

"Here," he said. "You look hungry. And nobody should have to eat alone."

Rust stared at the bread as if he could not believe it. Slowly, gently, he took it, and the two of them sat together in the middle of the bridge and ate, while the river rushed below and the wind whispered through the reeds.

Across the Bridge

When the bread was gone, Rust stood and stretched. "You answered my riddle," he said softly, "but more than that, you saw me. Clever children come along now and again. Kind ones, almost never. And you, Pim, are both."

He stepped aside and bowed his rusty head. "Cross freely. And let me show you the quickest way to the moonleaf — it grows behind the white stones, where the moon shines longest."

Rust led Pim across to the Far Side and showed him the patch of silvery moonleaf glowing softly in the shade. Pim gathered an armful, thanked the fox again and again, and ran all the way home with the wind at his back.

Wren Wakes

That night, the healer brewed the moonleaf into a warm green tea. By morning Wren's fever had broken. She sat up in bed, blinking, and asked for breakfast, and Pim laughed and cried at the same time.

But Pim did not forget the lonely fox on the bridge. Every week after that, he walked out to the river with a loaf of bread, and he and Rust would sit together and share it, and trade riddles, and watch the water go by. The fox grew sleek and bright-eyed and happy, and slowly the people of Thornbrook learned that the bridge was not so frightening after all.

For Rust had only ever wanted what most of us want — not gold, not victory, but a friend who would stay a while.

And Pim, who was clever enough to solve the riddle and kind enough to share his bread, had given him exactly that.

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The moral: Cleverness can open a door, but kindness is what makes a friend. The two together can solve almost anything.

More stories to read: meet a wise creature in Pippa and the Talking Tree or follow another brave heart in The Friendly Dragon.