When King Pearce returned from the Troll Wars, one of his most highly prized, secret, and well-guarded treasures was a small silk pouch of seeds. They had been liberated from the Troll King's private strong box, and King Pearce had bribed the Troll King's personal magician to discover what the seeds would produce. When he learned the truth, King Pearce decided that a tree growing solid gold apples would be a delightful thing to have. So he planted them in the center of the garden behind his castle.

A single tree emerged from the garden soil. It grew quickly, leafed thick and dark - and the king had no golden apples. The tree blossomed each evening, and a new crop should have grown each night. But each morning there were only stems to show where apples had been; the golden fruit was always gone.

This did not sit well with the king, and when he made this known, it did not sit well with his eldest son. "I will guard the tree tonight, Your Majesty" said the eldest prince. "I shall soon see who is making so free with your apples!"

So, directly it grew dark the young man hid himself near the apple tree to begin his watch. The apples had scarcely begun to swell and ripen when the prince dropped off to sleep. The rising sun woke him from his snooze, and it was with a slow tread and hanging head that he went to confess to his father that the apples were gone. He had slept through their theft.

Of course, though the eldest son had failed, the middle son knew he could do better. That night he stepped lightly out to the tree, checked the branches to make the tree was blossoming, and then settled himself to catch the thief. Naturally, the next he knew, it was morning, the sun was beating hot on his face - and the tree was bare of apples.

Late that evening, Princess Robyn, the king's only daughter went to the garden. She was not enthused about guarding the tree; she didn't believe she would fare better than her brothers. But she was a loyal daughter, the apples seemed to mean so much to her father, and so she went.

Growing up with only brothers in a castle full of soldiers had made Robyn a bit of a tom-princess. As pretty as a princess should be, she was used to rough sport and outdoor living. She saw no need to be uncomfortable, so she hung a hammock in the branches of the apple tree, threw in a large pillow and climbed in for an early evening nap.

Towards midnight she woke and looked around at the tree. The apples were beginning to ripen, and they lit the garden with their golden brightness. Robyn thought she might pluck one half-ripe so she should be sure to have one to take in, but at that moment nine golden peacocks came swooping out of the night sky to land in the branches around her, their multi-coloured tails spread wide behind them. As their feet hit the tree limbs, the peacocks changed, grew larger, their colourful plumage turning into colourful shirts and cloaks, the peacocks becoming sturdy young men. The multi-coloured tail feathers turned into packs on the youth's backs, and before the princess had time to gasp, they were plucking golden apples and stuffing them into the knapsacks.

Well, eight of them were plucking apples. The ninth young peacock fluttered to a branch next to Robyn's hammock and changed into a ninth handsome young man. He sat on the branch, hung his legs off the side, laid his pack across his knees and gave the princess good morrow.

Now, there was nothing shy about Robyn, and she sat up in her hammock to speak to the visitor. He had an open manner, bright green eyes, blond hair that tumbled past his shoulders (which bothered Robyn a little), and a silver tongue, as befits one who can become a bird. He was more beautiful than any man the princess had ever seen, he had a gift of gab, and the two talked together through the night. All the while his brothers nimbly leaped from branch to branch, picking the golden apples just as they reached their peak of ripeness.

The peacock-lad, who called himself Drew-bear, explained that the original apple tree had belonged to his father, but had been chopped down by the Troll King. The Troll had stolen the only remaining seeds and the peacock brothers' family had suffered greatly for the loss of the apples. The fruit gave them the power to become birds and do many other things besides. The princess was fascinated and decided she could get used to long hair.

Near dawn the young men had finished plucking the apples, and Drew-bear said they must go. The princess, who had explained why she was camping in the tree, sweetly pleaded for a little of the fruit. The young man gave her two apples, one for herself and one for her father. Then the lot of them melted back into peacocks, the bags of apples becoming colourful tail fans, and with a tiny trill of a song, the nine of them flew away. Robyn clutched her apples and settled back in her hammock to await the dawn.

That evening Robyn returned to the apple tree, climbed into her hammock and watched the blossoms swell. While she was asleep, the sun set and the fruit began to ripen. Just at midnight the light from the apples roused her from her nap, and out of the starry sky flew the nine peacocks.

This night was much like the first, only the princess and Drew-bear talked even more. As the stars were dimming to morning, Drew-bear gave the princess two apples, he and his brothers swirled back into birds, and away they flew to the east. And so it went for several nights - the princess napping in the tree, the bird-men coming at midnight to collect the apples, the young couple talking till dawn, Drew-bear giving his princess two apples (yes, his princess was the way the young man now thought of Robyn) and then sailing off into the early morning with his brothers. The peacock brothers were content to do the picking while Drew-bear stayed with Robyn. They were all happy for the joy he had found.

Not so Robyn's brothers. They grew angrier each morning when Robyn came in with two golden apples after they had failed. Their anger grew cold and hard, and they whispered together on what to do about it. When they could stand it no longer, they consulted an old witch. The hag listened to their story and promised to spy on their sister. She would learn how the princess got the apples they couldn't. In return, she demanded, she would have an apple for herself. The brothers did not know how they would get one to pay her, but they agreed and sneaked back to the castle.

Drew-bear landed on the branch with a yelp, clutching his ear with one hand, grasping for Robyn with the other to keep from falling from the tree. Robyn grabbed his hand and gripped her hammock, and together they stayed in the tree, each clinging for safe support. The knife spun crazily through the air and stuck in the trunk of the tree, forcing the single crimson drop of blood into the wood. The witch, stiff from the cool air of the night, clambered painfully from her hiding place and hobbled to the where the lock of hair had fallen, its golden brightness fading.

The tree began to shake. Not from a wind, not from the bird-men landing in it. The tree was shaking itself.

"Let's get to the ground!" Drew-bear yelled at Robyn, fear and determination bright and plain in his eyes. She wanted to ask what could be so wrong, but he was so insistent they leave that she clambered out of her hammock and followed him.

The light was dimming. The glow of the golden apples around them was fading. Scrambling to the ground, Robyn noticed the bark on the tree, which had always been light gray and paper smooth, was turning black and cracked, looking more like clotted blood than healthy tree-skin. As she neared the ground, the princess heard scurrying in the leaves beneath the tree. She saw the haggard old witch shuffling along in the dimming light, gathering up the tiny clumps of hair she had cut from the bird-man.

The other eight brothers transformed, peacocks once more. They spread their wings and sailed into the night sky, their many-eyed tails fanned out behind them. They flew in circles about their brother and the quaking tree.

The tree shook harder, its light failing. Branches twisted and knotted before their eyes, bark peeled and dropped off to drift to the ground. Leaves that had been fertile green at sundown became black and shrivelled. Half-ripened fruit dropped rotten to the ground. The sound of creaking, cracking wood was deafening.

"What's happening?" shouted Robyn over the noise.

Drew-bear shook his head, whispy blond hair fanning behind. He was pulling the princess away from the tree. "Go!" he yelled. "Run to the castle! It's - "

He never finished the sentence.

With a ripping, thunderous rumbling, the tree tore its roots from the garden soil. Black earth and leaves rained on Drew-bear, the princess, the witch, and Robyn was knocked from her feet. She looked up from the garden floor to see the tree bounce straight into the air, all it's massive wooden weight, hanging suspended over her. Like a bird curling its legs for flight, the tree lifted its roots and spread out its branches. In one final, silently explosive shudder, the tree shook off its bark - and became a dragon.

"Free!" roared the creature in flight above them. "Free!" It stretched and flexed its wings, spinning and hovering above the frightened couple. The wind from the creature's leathery wings sent the peacocks spinning head-over-claws into the darkness, and it kicked up a cloud of leaves, bark and loose dirt to cascade on the young lovers and the old woman. The witch squawked in anger as dirt covered the lock of hair she so desperately scrambled for.

The dragon, for all the roaring of its wings, must have heard this noise. It peered through the gloom at the soil where its roots had been buried. Drew-bear shook the dirt from his face. As he reached a hand to the fallen Robyn, he glared into the night sky at the hovering menace.

When the giant creature spotted Drew-bear staring up at it, the monster shrieked, a deafening blast of sound that was angry and hateful and delighted. With one push of its wings, it dived from the sky at the lad. Drew-bear flung Robyn away from him. She landed in a dirty heap several feet away, and saw the dragon drop onto Drew-bear, snatch him up in its claws, and sail off with him into the moonlit blackness.

Robyn was stunned by the quiet that followed the creature's exit. She lay in shocked silence for a moment, watching her peacock-prince (yes, she thought of Drew-bear as hers) sailing into the dark in the claws of the dragon, the eight peacock brothers beating their wings behind but quickly losing ground. She came back to herself at the sound of the witch, grunting and struggling in the loose dirt. Robyn could barely walk across the torn up ground, but easily caught the arthritic old woman.

"What have you done?" she yelled at the old woman. A creaking, moaning sound made them both look up in time to see Robyn's hammock twist, curl and break off a branch in a nearby pear tree where it had been thrown during the transformation. Robyn shook the witch. "What have you done?"

The witch tried to pull away. "Leave me go! Leave me go! I was supposed to find out how you get them gold apples. But I saw the shape-shifter. I wanted part of him. I can be a shape-shifter, too. I know the spells. I got the hair. When I shift, I be young and beautiful again. Leave me go!"

Robyn let her go. The haggard creature scuttled like an arthritic beetle into the night, crunching and crashing through the dry leaves of the garden floor, her precious lock of blond hair clutched in her gnarled fingers. The princess paid her no mind. There was nothing the old hag could do to bring back the tree or the peacocks, and Robyn knew it. From behind her came the sounds of guards running from the castle. Slowly, she turned to meet them.

She wouldn't let herself cry.

In a dry, matter-of-fact way, Robyn told him the whole story, how the peacocks came, how they turned to men, took the apples and fled. She told how she had befriended and then fallen in love with one of them, one who left apples for the king. She told how the witch had hurt the lad, and transformed the tree, and made an end to the golden apples in the kingdom. King Pearce demanded to know who the witch was, where she could be found, who had set her to her awful task. Robyn replied, truthfully, that she did not know, did not know, did not know. But she had suspicions she never voiced.

The princess sat the next midnight beside the pit where the tree had been, just to see if anything happened. It didn't. She search the ground around the pit for hairs or the dagger the witch had thrown. Nothing. After a few days, she gave up and simply moped around the castle, speaking when spoken to, and not much then. She was no longer the bright, silly, tom-boy Lady everyone knew. The king realized that his loss of golden apples was nothing to the loss of his daughter. He knew she must cry some time, but no one ever saw her. The peacocks never returned.

Late summer turned to fall, normally Robyn's favorite time of the year. But this season the exploding colours, bright days and cool nights held no charm for her. Every breeze through the branches reminded her of her Drew-bear, ever rustle of leaves made her think of the hidden witch. At last she could not even stand to be around herself.

"Daddy," she told the king one day in early October, "I miss my peacock. I'm going to find Drew-bear."

In vain her father tried to persuade her that her task was hopeless. "He is not the only man you will have in your life," argued the king. "You don't even know where to start looking. Being able to change to a bird - he doesn't sound completely human. Winter's setting in. If he was interested in you, he would have been back." On and on his arguments went. The princess would listen to nothing. Though it sickened him, the king placed a guard on his daughter to keep her from leaving - but it did no good. One cool moonless night, she shouldered her pack of camping gear, dropped some coins in her pocket, slipped past the guard near her door - and Robyn was gone.

One afternoon in late October she came to a small stream. As she was about to jump across it she heard a thin voice calling to her.

"Please," it squeaked. "For pity's sake, my sister, help me!" Looking at her feet, Robyn found a little fish lying on the back, beating its tail convulsively in a vain effort to get back into the water. "Put me back into the river," it shrieked. "I will repay you one day." Without a word, the princess picked up the creature and tossed it into the stream. It immediately popped to the surface. "Thank you, my lady. You have saved me. Look at your hand." Robyn saw that a scale from the fish had stuck to her palm. She was about to wipe it off on her pants when the fish squeaked again. "Don't! When you are in danger, immerse the scale in running water. My people will come!"

Robyn smiled and nodded to the fish, carefully wrapped the fish scale in a handkerchief and stuffed it in her pack.

One cool, windy evening she set up her tent next to a small lake. She woke the next morning to find the temperature had dropped sharply during the night. Her tent was covered in frost and the lake was frozen over. A couple of feet from shore, three geese were sitting on the ice making an amazing noise. Actually, two were sitting on the ice and one had its feet frozen in the ice. When Robyn emerged from her tent, the frozen goose called to her.

"Oh, please, My Lady! Be a sister to me! I fell asleep here and am trapped. Free me from this ice before a fox or cat comes by to help me by helping themselves!"

The princess looked at the geese for a moment, then picked up a chunk of firewood and smacked the ice between the goose and shore. A spiderweb of cracks ran across the surface and the ice shattered, freeing the goose. The birds immediately ran across the surface of the frozen lake, taking to the air. They circled the lake a couple of times and then the talking goose flew back to hover over Robyn.

"I thank you, My Lady. I do not forget my debts." The goose reached with a beak to pluck out a feather. It floated slowly down to the princess. "When you are in danger, rub your fingers along that feather. My people will come." The other two geese swooped in to join him, and together they sailed south toward the horizon. Robyn stored the feather in her pack and then resumed her lonely quest.

"Whatever you are, help me," said a voice that sounded like the crackling of logs in a fire, the soughing hissing or wind through leaves. "Help me and my children."

It was the tree that spoke to her. By now Robyn was almost accustomed to non-talking creatures starting conversations. She crouched on her heels beside the fallen tree.

"What do you need?" she asked. "I'm not strong enough to move these rocks off you."

"I know," rasped and sighed the voice from within the branches. "I would not ask that of you. I may one day rise from this place on my own. But my children will never grow in this rocky mess."

"Your children?" Robyn looked around the desolate mountain pass. She could see nothing but dirt, rocks and crushed trees.

"The trees. I am an Oakman, a shepherd of the trees. And none of my charges will rise from this disaster. But you are not trapped. You will escape this place. If you would take their acorns with you - just a few, they wouldn't be heavy - if you could take some and plant them in a safe place, somewhere far from this mountain...well, then my children will see the spring again."

Robyn said nothing, but nodded to the Oakman. She scrambled over the rocks and pried in the loose dirt with her hands. In less than an hour, she collected a double handful of green acorns. She didn't know if the Oakman could see, or where its eyes would be, but she held out the nuts to show the tree shepherd. Then she stored the seeds in her pack.

"Thank you," the creature said. "Now you must take one of my leaves. No, not one off the ground. Tear a green one off my branches. Don't worry, I can't hurt any more than I do. There. Good. You will never be sorry for helping me. If you are ever in need, rub that leave against a tree. My people will know."

Thanking the creature for this gift, Robyn moved on, ever toward the east, ever searching for her peacock.

Since it was unlocked, the princess tried to enter the gate, but was barred by the some one who called himself The Keeper, an officious little man with a sword on his belt, a pen behind his ear, a lengthy scroll in his hand, and his nose in the air. He wanted to know who she was, why she was there, how she found the city, and didn't she know no one entered without the king's greeter gave them leave? Hmm!?

At Robyn's request, the Keeper sent a message to the palace. Visitors who found the city were rare enough that each required a personal interview by the king's special slave. When the slave arrived, Robyn thought perhaps her father was right, that she had lost her wits. Shuffling up the dirt street, beggars rags for clothes, a record book and pen under his arm, heavy weights on his feet and a guard on either side was Drew-bear, the bird-man she had left home to seek.

We will pass over the hugs, the touches, the long tender looks that passed between the young couple. Only Robyn will ever know the feelings that lifted her heart on finding her Drew-bear after such a long and tiring journey. Instead, we will resume with the conversation that started after their initial hello.

"What are you doing here?" Robyn asked. "Why don't you leave?"

"As to the first, I am waiting on the Dragon-King. He was the one you saw grab me that night. He has me do tedious and menial jobs. It amuses him to see me do lowly work, dress in lowly clothes - and especially when I must walk instead of fly." He lifted one leg slightly to show her the lead shoes he wore. "As to why I stay..." Drew-bear nodded to the guards behind him. "These guards. You see them? They are not to keep you out. They are to keep me in."

Robyn looked from one guard to the other, to the Keeper and back to the guards. Then she let her gaze drift back to Drew-bear. She winked, slowly, and dropped her pack to the ground. "I brought you something," she said. She fished in one of the pockets of the pack and pulled out the goose feather. Holding its tip in one hand, she pulled it between her thumb and forefinger. The pins on either tumbled off to the ground and left her holding the bare white quill.

A flutter, beating, thumping sound filled the air above them, and goose down snowed onto the little party. "My Lady," called a voice from the sky. "You called me and my kingdom?"

"These hunters," Robyn cried to the geese. "They are trying to trap me and my friend."

"Hunters?! Two legged wolves, are they? At them, my brothers!" With the whirr of an angry storm, the flock of geese dived on the guards and the Keeper, pecking, biting, beating with their wings. Angry geese have killed men and beasts, but this flock only wanted to insure Robyn and Drew-bear' escape, so they simply beat the daylights out of the guards.

"Come on!" Robyn grabbed Drew-bear's hand and pulled him toward the road. Drew-bear clumped heavily through the gate, then sat in the road and tore off the metal shoes. His feet free to run, he clutched his princess' hand and down the road they sped, away from the Dragon-King's city.

"Eat your supper with a free mind," answered the golden creature. "Follow them afterwards. You need not inconvenience yourself about them."

So the dragon-king feasted till nearly sundown. When he wanted no more, he mounted the talking golden horse and set out after the fugitives. Soon he found them, trotting west along the dirt road. As he snatched up Drew-bear and plunked him on the saddle behind him, he told the princess: "Little human, my people avoid your people. You make no sense to us, and you rarely have anything we want. You make no sense to me, risking your life for this one. You have nothing more I need, so you are dismissed. But beware returning to my castle. You will pay for it with dearly. You should consider this (what do you people say?) a `lucky day.'"

With that, the Dragon-King turned the talking horse to home, and before Robyn could speak, the three were gone.

Raging in grief and frustration, the princess spent some minutes beating her fists against the dirt of the road. Then, when the anger passed, she turned back to the Dragon-King's city. Drew-bear was there; there she must go.

This meeting was brief, painful, almost bitter. They knew they could not escape on their own.

"It's that horse," said Robyn. "We might have a chance if we had more time to get away. Find out what you can about that horse."

Drew-bear nodded. "The horse can speak, and it can outrun the sun. The Dragon-King has had the horse as long as I've known of him. I shall learn more. I will turn you away, now. Petition for entry again tomorrow."

With one last hug, and some officious mumbo-jumbo so it sounded like Drew-bear was considering her entry request, the princess was turned away. She hiked to a small stand of trees near the roadway, set up her hammock, planted one of the rescued acorns and waited.

"And how was work for my gate keeper's assistant?" He smiled and eyed Drew-bear. "Is the walk down the main street long enough to suit you in your new shoes?" The Dragon-King laughed aloud.

"Long enough," answered Drew-bear, feigning more weariness than he felt. "Plenty long enough. Actually, my lord, you should give me the loan of your horse."

The Dragon-King roared with laughter. "You would like that, wouldn't you. And you think that would be the last I would see of you, don't you? But you do not know my horse. My horse is loyal to me because of how I came by him."

"And how was that, my lord?"

The Dragon-King knocked his plate off the table, the half-eaten dinner scattering across the floor. "Clean up that mess," he told Drew-bear. "How did I get it? Well, I dare say I can tell you, as neither you nor anyone else will find its like. I got it from Med Yusa, the Mountain Witch. She lives at the foot of Ruff Mountain to the east of my city. But no one will ever get another from her."

"Why, my lord?"

"She sets too high a price. Too high even for me. But I did not have to pay - the witch owed me this much and more."

"What price is that, my lord?"

The Dragon-King gave the lad a one-eyed smile. "Let your rescuer go to the witch. The witch's price is simple." The beast took a long drink from his glass. "She only wants a servant, a stable-hand. And only for a day at that." The Dragon-King threw the glass to the floor. "Clean up that mess!" he shouted.

"Then I will go to the Mountain Witch," Robyn said.

"There has to be more to it than this," said Drew-bear. "It can't just be cleaning out the stables for a day and then getting a horse as fast as lightening."

"We'll see," said the princess. With a last hug, she went back out the gate, picked up her pack and started walking to the east.

"Good day to you, mother."

"Good day to you, my daughter. What are you doing here, so far from everyone's way?"

"I have heard you are in need of a serving girl," answered Robyn. "I wish to be that girl."

"So you shall, my daughter," said the witch. "I don't know who told you I needed help. Maybe they didn't tell you what kind of job it is. I need a stable hand. If you can care for my horses for a day, especially my prize mare and foal, I will give you any horse for wages. But there is a penalty for poor performance. If you let the mare stray, you will end up in the chicken yard." With that, she stalked off toward the stable and chicken coop behind the house.

`She must be awfully flat-footed,' though Robyn. `She walks like a farm hand.'

When she reached the back of the house, the witch stopped and motioned for Robyn to come to her. The princess stepped to stand beside the hag. Behind the house was a chicken yard with dozens of hens scratching in the dust, and surrounding the chicken yard were poles, each as tall as a man. And on each pole, a man's head was stuck. There was only one pole that was empty, and it quivered and moaned.

"Woman!" shrieked the pole. "When you planted me here you promised me a head. Give me my head!" "Yes, yes!" cried the heads on the other poles. "Give our brother his head!"

The old woman ignored them. She turned to the princess and said: "Look! This lot all took service with me, on the same conditions as you. Not a one was able to guard the mare properly!"

"None were me," answered the princess. And so the deal was sealed.

Robyn spent the rest of that day cleaning the stables. They were awfully filthy considering that twelve of the fifteen horses in the stables seemed to help her clean up. With noses and hooves, they kicked and nuzzled as much of the old straw as they could toward the door so it would be easier for Robyn to shovel out. The twelve were all young, strong, powerful looking beasts, though they showed signs of poor feed and ill-treatment. The mare and her foal were ordinary enough, and the fifteenth horse, standing in a corner, leaning against a wall to keep from falling, was a thin, wretched-looking animal one would not glance at a second time. Wall-eyed and covered in flies, it wasn't much of a horse.

When evening came, the witch led the mare and foal out of the stable. She saddled her and handed the reins to Robyn. "Keep an eye on her," said Med Yusa, and stomped off back into her house.

Slinging her ever-present pack on her back, Robyn mounted the mare, and the colt ran behind. The mare was gentle enough, plodding quietly along through a bridle path in the surrounding woods. The horse would not turn to right or left, no matter what Robyn tried, but as the creature was so gentle and slow, the princess finally gave the beast her head and let her wander as she wished. At length she grew weary, the long hike in the morning, the stable cleaning in the afternoon having tired her, and now the gentle swaying of the horse began to tell on her. She fell fast asleep in the saddle.

When she woke, she found herself sitting on a log with a halter in her hands. She jumped up in terror. The mare was nowhere to be seen, and Robyn, heart pounding loudly in her breast, searched the forest. The night was dark, the sky moonless and she found no tracks in the tangled woods. After what seemed like miles of wandering, she came to a small stream and knelt to drink and wash her face. The sight of the water brought to mind the fish she had saved. In desperation, she drew the scale from her pocket and tossed it in the creek. Hardly had it touched the water when a fish's head surfaced.

"You bear the king's scale," said the fish anxiously. "What is it, my sister?"

"The old woman's mare strayed," said the princess. "I don't know where to look for her. If I don't find her, the witch will have my head."

"Oh, I can tell you that. The mare changed herself into a big fish, and her foal into a little one. She does this every time some one is supposed to watch her. Strike the water with the halter and say, `Come to me, Mare of the Mountain Witch!' She will come."

The princess did as she was bid, and the mare and her foal stepped glistening and confused out of the water. Calling out her thanks, Robyn leaped to her feet and chased after the horse. Without a rider to slow it down, however, it was a different mare. The creature rear and kicked, leaping away from the princess, keeping herself always between Robyn and the colt. The mare never tried to hurt the girl, and when the princess would stand still, so would the mare. But the horse would not let herself be bridled.

Tired and frustrated, Robyn was ready to throw the halter at the creature when she remembered her last remaining token. She dipped into the pocket on the side of her pack and pulled out the Oakman's leaf. Though it kept its summer green, the leaf had dried to a delicate crunchiness. With little hope, she rubbed it against a nearby oak. The leaf crumbled to dust.

Above her, branches creaked and shivered. From the darkness nearby came sighing, crackling voice.

"You bear a leaf from a shepherd of the trees. I am brother to that shepherd. Can we do for you?"

She didn't know what to ask for, so Robyn simply explained she was set by the witch to guard the mare and foal, and she could not get them under control. When the sun rose, she explained, the witch Med Yusa would put her head on a pole.

"That she will not," said the slow leafy voice from the dark. "I know not what service you did our brother, but you shall know the gratitude of Oakmen."

Around her, Robyn saw shadows moving. Slithering noises hissled through the grass at her feet, and tree limbs swayed above. All around, plants were on the move. In a few seconds, no more, vines wrapped the feet and legs of the mare and foal, tree limbs intertwined to form a corral around them, and the two were trapped.

"Now," said the Oakman, "come forward and do what you must."

Thanking her unseen benefactor, Robyn stepped to the trapped horses and slipped the bridle over the mare's head. Realizing her defeat, the animal stopped struggling against the branches and vines.

"Now," said the Oakman voice, "my lady, you may sleep." Grasses dashed around at Robyn's feet. "These simple ones will make you a mattress. Rest. We will wake you in time to return to the witch."

With another word of thanks to the tree shepherd, the princess wrapped the reins around a low branch, sank to the soft and yielding grasses, and soon was fast asleep.

The old woman was at the door to receive them. She said not a word but gave the princess some food. Then she led the mare back to the stable.

"You should have gone among the fishes," hissed the old woman, striking the animal with a stick.

"I did go among the fishes," replied the mare. "But the fishes are no friends of mine. They betrayed me!"

The old woman made no answer, and turned to leave the stable. The princess stood in the doorway. She had ignored the offered breakfast and followed the old woman instead.

"I served you well," she said quietly. "Now for my reward."

"What I promised, that will I perform," answered the witch bitterly. "Choose one of these dozen fine horses. You can have which ever you like."

"Give me that one." The princess pointed to the half-starved creature in the corner. "Give me that one leaning against the wall. I prefer him to these others."

"You can't mean what you say?" gasped the old woman. The question sounded much like an order.

"Yes, I do," said the princess. "I will have that one and no other."

And so the old woman was forced to let her have her way. With a sour look, she mumbled something under her breath and waved her hand at the ancient creature. It shivered, then clumsily walked to where the princess and witch stood.

"You are hers, now," said the witch with a bad grace. "Go!"

The horse looked at the old woman with a droopy eye, and then looked at Robyn. "Am I free, then?" it asked.

Robyn wasn't surprised. "Yes," she answered. "Though I would like you to help me, if you can."

"Free?" The creature seemed not to have heard. "Free!" It shook itself from nose to tail, as if shaking water from its hide. With each shiver than ran along its skin, the horse's hair grew bright and silvery. "Free!" it cried. And with one last shake, it came to rest, bright shining and silver, though still skinny and sway-backed. All around the stable, the other horses were whinnied and snorted, and from the chicken yard the heads and pole moaned.

The old witch drew a pattern in the air beside her. With each pass her hand made along it, the pattern became more solid, a spider web of green fire hanging in space.

"Free!" shouted the sway-backed horse away. And this time when he shivered, the roof flew off the barn, the walls blew out, the straw on the floor was swept away by a wind that moved only it. There in the open air stood the horse, Robyn, the witch, the mare and foal - and where the other horses had been there now stood twelve knights.

"Free!" they all shouted and cheered.

"Humph!" snorted the witch. She slipped the fingers of her left hand into the pattern of emerald fire she had drawn, pulled it like the strings of a cat's cradle, and she, the mare and the foal were gone.

"Good riddance," sniffed the silver horse. "And now, my lady, my liberator, what would you have of me?"

Briefly, Robyn explained she needed a horse fast enough to rescue her beloved. The silver horse, when he heard of the Dragon-King's steed, nodded. "My brother," he said. "Fallen in with bad company, as usual." The creature shook its head.

The silver horse agreed to help Robyn make her rescue. But first, it said, there must be a bit of breakfast. With that, it walked over to a manger filled with oats - the mare's feeding trough, it was - and ate as through he had not eaten properly in years. Which he had not.

While she waited, Robyn met the twelve knights. They had all come, not to take service with the mountain witch, but to rescue family members who had come for such a purpose. Alas, the relatives had lost their heads for not watching the mare properly. And the knights, since they came armed and angry, had been treated to a bit of the witch's green fire. Horses they became, held out as rewards for other unlucky fools. They begged to fight the Dragon-King and free Drew-bear.

"No time," said the silver horse, finishing the last oats in the manger. "No time. We cannot wait for you. The princess and I will go for the lad. You lot meet us at the castle of King Pearce. We will need your help there if the Dragon-King tries to take back the lad."

Sensing a fight, the knights gave a cheer. The sound of their happy shouting rang in Robyn's ears as she climbed on the back of the scrawny silver steed and sailed into the air.

They were barely away from the gate when the Dragon-King came home to find his favorite servant was missing. He roared for his golden horse. "What shall we do? Shall we eat and drink, or shall we follow the runaways?"

The horse shook its head. "Whether you eat or starve, drink or dry up, follow or sit your throne, it matters nothing. We will never, ever catch them now!"

The Dragon-King roared. He snatched up his throne, raised it over his head and smashed it onto the dining table. Plates shattered and wine sprayed in all directions. "We will bloody well not give them up without a fight!" He sprang onto the back of the horse. "We will capture my peacock-boy, and we will seize us a new kitchen slave!" With that, they set off in chase of the fugitives.

The runaways saw the Dragon-King coming. Frightened, they urged the silver horse to fly faster. "Fear nothing," he said. "We escape or we don't. Either way, you've nothing to do but ride." This did not calm the young couple, but Robyn realized he was right. The best thing she could do was hold on and let the horse fly.

Soon they heard the Dragon-King's horse panting close behind, its hooves pounding the air as it closed on the silver horse. The escapees' mount turned slightly and dived for a thick stand of trees. Still the golden horse came closer.

The Dragon-King shouted his delight. "Faster!" he cried. "We nearly have them!"

"And what," panted the golden horse, "will you do with them when you have them, my master?"

"What will I do? It's back to scrubbing floors for the boy. And sweating in the kitchen for the girl. And I will use the horse to haul trash from my palace!" The stand of thick trees grew larger.

"That you will not!" said the golden horse. "I care nothing for your feud with the boy, but the horse is my brother. He will not spend his life hauling your swill. I told you at the castle, I warned you that you would never catch them. And you shall not."

With that, both horses made sudden, sharp turns, pulling up at the last moment to keep from crashing into the trees. The silver creature strained to keep his riders mounted on his back, but the golden horse arched and bucked. The Dragon-King flew off with no time to transform to his dragon shape. As the two horses and the two young riders sailed back into the clear azure sky, they heard the Dragon-King's shout of rage drift away beneath them and cut suddenly short.

Robyn and Drew-bear were wed, and the kingdom celebrated. In time the kingdom passed to them, and they ruled wisely and well. The twelve knights from Ruff Mountain came to the castle and formed Queen Robyn's personal guard, so grateful were they for their freedom, and Drew-bear managed a family reunion with his peacock brothers. The golden and silver talking horses stayed for many years as pleasant companions, wise counselors and fast mounts. When they were very old, they flew slowly off together to the south and were never seen again.

But all that happened after they had been home for a while. The first thing they did, the morning after their arrival at the castle, was plant a tree. Not a magical, golden-apple tree, but the last of the acorns Robyn had rescued in the mountains, the only acorn she had not planted during her travels. And though the oak that grew was a normal, non-magical oak, they still hung hammocks in it and sat arm-in-arm in its shade till they were old and gray together.