Cinderella and Alangazar

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…”