Fierce, Fearless and Free

by Lari Don

  To Ailsa Dixon, an inspiring young storyteller:

  keep carrying the flame forward, in your own wonderful way!

  CONTENTS

  Kandek and the Wolf

  Armenian Folk Tale

  Goddess vs Mountain

  Sumerian Myth

  Neringa and the Sea Dragon

  Lithuanian Legend

  Kate Crackernuts and the Sheep-headed Monster

  Scottish Fairy Tale

  Riina and the Red Stone Axe

  Solomon Islands Folk Tale

  Medea and the Metal Man

  Greek Myth

  Bridget and the Witches

  Irish Folk Tale

  Petrosinella and the Tower

  Italian Fairy Tale

  Fire and Rain

  Mexican Myth

  Nana Miriam and the Hungry Hippo

  Nigerian Legend

  Maria and the Condor

  Ecuadorian Folk Tale

  The Lace Dragon

  Chinese Folk Tale

  Altyn Aryg and the Snake’s Belly

  Siberian Legend

  Finding Our Own Heroines

  About the Author

  About the Illustrator

  KANDEK AND THE WOLF

  ARMENIAN FOLK TALE

  Once upon a time, a girl called Kandek lived beside a dark dangerous forest.

  She often took lunch to her father as he worked in the fields on the edge of the forest. One day, on her way home, she stopped to eat her own lunch: bread, cheese and a crunchy red apple. She sat on a tree stump and bit into the apple.

  ‘I smell something sweet,’ said a hoarse voice. ‘I smell something sweet and fresh and tasty!’

  Kandek looked into the forest and saw an old woman standing in the shadows.

  This wasn’t a little old lady with fluffy white hair and a sweet smile. This was a tall long-limbed old woman with thick silver-grey hair, a toothy grin, a long nose and yellow nails on her bent fingers and bare toes.

  The old woman stared at the hand holding the apple. ‘I’m hungry.’

  Kandek knew, from listening to her mother’s fairy tales, that it was wise to be polite and generous to anyone you met on the edge of the forest. So she walked over to the old woman and offered her the red apple.

  The old woman grabbed Kandek’s wrist. ‘I don’t want to eat the apple. I want to eat you!’

  Just for a moment, the old woman’s nose lengthened into a snout, her teeth grew sharper, and her bare feet sprouted grey fur and curved claws.

  Kandek had been polite and generous… to a werewolf.

  Now the werewolf was holding her tight.

  The old woman laughed, threw Kandek into a sack, tied the top of the sack and lifted it on to her back. Then she strode through the trees, heading for the depths of the forest.

  ‘You’ll boil down into a tender tasty stew for my supper.’

  Kandek didn’t want to be eaten, by a wolf or an old woman. But she didn’t have a knife to slice her way out of the sack. She would have to cut herself free using words.

  She moaned, ‘I’m so squished in this sack, my muscles are cramped. Let me stretch my legs, or I’ll be chewy and stringy rather than tender and tasty.’

  The old woman dropped the sack on the ground and untied it. ‘Stretch your legs,’ she snapped. ‘But be quick.’

  Kandek clambered out. She pointed and circled her left foot. She pointed and circled her right foot. Then she said, ‘Of course, the best way to stretch your legs is to… RUN!’

  Kandek sprinted towards the edge of the forest.

  As she ran, she thought: that old woman will never catch me.

  But the old woman didn’t stay an old woman. She shifted, completely and suddenly, into a wolf. A long-legged, silver-furred wolf.

  The wolf ran after Kandek.

  Kandek sprinted as fast as she could. But the wolf was faster.

  Kandek could see green fields through the trees; she was nearly out of the forest. Then the wolf leaped at her, landed on her shoulders and knocked her to the ground.

  The werewolf had caught her prey again.

  The silver wolf gripped one of Kandek’s boots in her jaws and dragged the girl back to the sack. The old woman shoved Kandek inside again, tied it up again and carried her through the forest again.

  But Kandek didn’t give up. She kept trying to open that sack with words. ‘I’m getting pins and needles. I’ll taste sharp and bitter, unless you let me out.’

  ‘I’ll eat you whatever you taste like,’ said the old woman.

  ‘This sack smells of salt. Aah-aah-aah-chooo! It’s making me sneeze. Aah-aah-aah-chooo! I’ll get the inside of your sack all snotty, if you don’t let me out.’

  ‘I have other sacks at home,’ muttered the old woman.

  ‘I need the toilet! I’m desperate! If you don’t let me out, I’ll get your sack all wet and smelly.’

  The old woman laughed. ‘I don’t care! I have plenty of other sacks at home.’

  They reached the old woman’s cottage and she dropped the sack on the hard floor.

  Trapped inside the dark salty sack, Kandek heard the old woman stack logs and light a fire. Kandek heard the crackle of flames. Kandek heard the old woman fill a pot with water. Kandek heard the water bubble over the fire.

  Kandek did not want to go into that water, over those flames.

  She had just one more chance to escape.

  Kandek wriggled inside the sack until her feet were flat against the floor, then she tensed her muscles and got ready to spring.

  When the old woman untied the sack, Kandek leaped out.

  She leaped on to the old woman’s shoulders, jumped as high as she could and grabbed one of the rafters holding up the roof. Kandek pulled herself on to the smoke-stained beam and sat there, high above the cottage floor.

  Kandek looked down. This was like her own cottage, with firewood drying against the walls, sacks heaped in one corner and a spinning wheel in another. But her family’s cottage didn’t have an angry silver wolf snarling in the middle of the floor.

  ‘You can’t get me!’ laughed Kandek. ‘Wolves can’t climb, or fly!’

  The wolf jumped and snapped, and howled and growled, and jumped again. Kandek pulled her feet up on to the rafter and the wolf couldn’t reach her.

  The wolf shifted into the old woman. ‘Wolves can’t climb, but I can, if I build a staircase.’

  The old woman piled all the logs in the cottage into a pyramid. She started to climb towards the rafters, muttering about dragging Kandek down into the pot.

  But the logs were roughly chopped, with sharp edges and splinters. The old woman’s bare feet were cut by her firewood staircase. She whined in pain, hopping and jumping as the splinters stabbed her feet. The pile of logs wobbled, then slipped, then rolled. The old woman fell and landed on the floor beside the fire.

  She looked around for something else to build a stairway to her supper.

  But Kandek already knew the best building material. She pointed to the heap of sacks. Full versions of the empty sack she’d been carried in. Sacks she recognised from her own cottage. Sacks of salt, for preserving meat.

  ‘Those sacks would make a strong staircase,’ Kandek said loudly. Then she gasped. ‘Ooops, me and my big mouth! Why did I give you such a good idea…?’

  The old woman laughed, then hauled the sacks over and piled them up. Soon she had a stable mound of sacks, leading right up to Kandek.

  She stepped on to the first sack, then the second, leaving bloody footprints as she climbed.

  The salt from the sacks seeped into the cuts from the firewood. And salt in wounds is very painful.

  The old woman howled. ‘Ow Ow OW!’ She hopped and danced. S
he tried to keep climbing as she hopped, but the pain in her feet was too much. She wobbled and slipped and tumbled and fell…

  Right into the pot of water.

  As the old woman splashed and spluttered, Kandek swung down from the rafter, slid down the sacks and ran out of the cottage.

  Behind her, she heard the howls of the werewolf trying to scramble out of the boiling water. Kandek didn’t look back, she just ran through the trees and out of the forest to home and to safety.

  I don’t know whether the werewolf escaped from the pot, but I do know that neither the silver wolf nor the old woman ever chased Kandek again.

  I also know that the next time Kandek met someone she didn’t know on the edge of the forest, she was still polite and generous, but she threw them an apple, rather than handing it to them. Because Kandek knew that keeping her distance was the safest way to share her lunch, without becoming someone else’s supper…

  GODDESS VS MOUNTAIN

  SUMERIAN MYTH

  Inanna enjoyed her job. Both her jobs.

  She was Goddess of Love, which meant people sang songs to her, wrote poetry about her, asked for her help to love and be loved, built temples to her and gave her lots of gifts.

  She was also Goddess of War, which meant people carried her banners into battle, chanted her name, asked for her help to kill and not be killed, built temples to her and gave her lots of gifts.

  She danced to the songs, she admired the banners, she put up with the poetry. She enjoyed the gifts and the worship in the temples. She loved the way people bowed to her: kneeling down and touching their faces to the ground. It showed respect for her power. Also, most people looked silly with their nose to the ground and their bottom in the air.

  So Inanna, Goddess of Love and War, loved both her jobs.

  Every day, she flew over the land of Sumer in a chariot pulled by six blue bulls, swooping over the Euphrates and Tigris rivers, visiting her temples, watching battles, blessing weddings.

  One day, as she soared over Sumer, she noticed something new.

  A blot on the horizon.

  A dark stain on her perfect world.

  Inanna flicked the reins and her bulls flew towards the smudge of dirt on the sky. Soon, Inanna could see it was a mountain. Bigger than any mountain she’d seen before. Much bigger than any mountain she’d seen in this land before.

  She guided her bulls into a wide circle round the new mountain, avoiding the smoke pouring from the summit, and she called out, ‘I am Inanna.’

  The mountain shrugged.

  ‘I am Inanna, Goddess of Love.’

  The mountain burped.

  ‘I am Inanna, Goddess of War.’

  The mountain farted.

  ‘I am Inanna, Goddess of Love and War, and I demand your respect.’

  The mountain spoke. ‘I am Ebih, and I am bigger and stronger than you.’

  Suddenly a pillar of flame rose from the mountain. The blast of heat burned Inanna’s fingers on the reins and scorched her bulls’ blue hides.

  Inanna steered the chariot into a wider circle, slightly further from the mountain and his flames.

  ‘I am Ebih!’ he roared. ‘You should show ME respect!’

  ‘You are earthbound and solid; I am made of moonlight and worship. You are a rock; I am a goddess. You will bow down to me!’

  ‘I bow to NO ONE,’ bellowed Ebih.

  ‘You will bow to me. You will press your forehead to the earth and rub your nose in the dust.’

  ‘I shake the earth. I create the dust. I am the power in this land now. The people sing to you, but they RUN from me. I am more powerful than any god. You should bow to me, little goddess!’

  Ebih roared even louder. Hot rocks shot from his mouth towards the chariot.

  Inanna flicked the reins and her bulls flew away from the mountain.

  ‘I’ll be back,’ she yelled over her shoulder. ‘I’ll be back with all the gods, then you will bow down!’

  As her bulls galloped through the air, Inanna saw that the land around the new mountain was burnt and desolate. Plants were dying from too much smoke and not enough sunlight. People and animals were running from the growing circle of ash and devastation.

  Inanna flew home to the palace of the gods, high in the sky. As she leaped off her chariot and unharnessed her bulls, she realised she had ash on her fingers and her skirts were singed. She dashed to her chambers, washed quickly and dressed in her finest robes. She put stars on her forehead and brushed moonbeams into her hair.

  Then Inanna strode into the throne room and bowed to Anu, chief of all the gods. ‘My lord, there’s a new mountain.’

  ‘There are always new mountains.’ Anu smiled at her. ‘The world is making itself around us, inspired by our power and majesty.’

  ‘This new mountain didn’t bow down to me.’

  Anu stroked his long black curled beard. ‘Maybe he didn’t know who you are.’

  ‘He knew. He called me “little goddess”. He said he was more powerful than any god.’

  Anu walked to the wide windows of the palace, which looked out over the known world.

  Anu saw the smoke and leaping fire.

  ‘He’s called Ebih,’ said Inanna quietly. ‘And he didn’t show me respect. Let me lead all the gods to the mountain. If Ebih refuses to show us proper respect, we can defeat him together and force him to bow down before us.’

  Anu frowned. ‘That mountain is far away. It may be wise to recognise the limits of our power. It may be sensible to allow the mountain his own sphere of influence–’

  ‘But Anu, he’s destroying the land. He’s burning people out of their homes and animals out of their fields. We must force him to bow to us and respect us, then we can order him to stop burping smoke and farting flames.’

  ‘The fire will not reach us here; the smoke will usually blow the other way. We’ll be safe in our palace.’

  ‘The people won’t be safe. These people pray to us, they make offerings to us, they show us respect. We owe them our protection.’

  ‘The people running from that mountain are showing good sense and an instinct for survival. You should do the same, Inanna.’

  ‘So you won’t challenge Ebih?’

  Anu shook his head. ‘Power recognises power. The gods will leave that mountain alone.’

  Inanna clenched her fists. ‘I will make him respect me. Because without respect, the gods are nothing.’ She ran out of the throne room.

  Anu sighed and wondered which of his other nieces and nephews could handle the jobs of love and war, if Inanna didn’t return…

  In her chambers, the Goddess of Love took off her shining jewels and elegant robes.

  Then the Goddess of War dressed for battle.

  She chose her favourite bow and arrows, her most accurate spear and lance, her heaviest mace, her sharpest axe and her longest sword. She harnessed her blue bulls, jumped into her chariot and left the palace of the gods. She flew over the dusty dying earth, to circle round the summit of the mountain.

  ‘I am Inanna and you will bow down to me. You will bend your rocky back, press your stony face on the ground and rub your pebbly nose in the dirt. You will show me respect. Then you will leave my land and my people alone.’

  ‘No!’ roared Ebih. ‘I am the power here. You will bow to me, little goddess.’

  ‘Little goddess?’ Inanna smiled, a fierce reckless smile. ‘I am the Goddess of WAR!’ Then she attacked the mountain.

  Standing steady in her chariot, Inanna lifted her bow. She aimed carefully and fired one arrow, then another, then another. She shot all her long sharp arrows into the wide-open mouth of the mountain.

  Every arrow reached its target.

  And every arrow burned in the heat of the mountain’s fire.

  ‘Foolish goddess!’ called Ebih. ‘Your weapons feed my fire and increase my power.’

  Inanna balanced her spear perfectly in her expert grip and threw it at Ebih’s wide back. The spear hit the spine of the
mountain, but the blade broke on the rock.

  She grabbed her mace, her brutal war-hammer, and hurled it at the ribs of the mountain. She grinned when she heard the harsh crunch of impact, then frowned when she saw that her mace had shattered and the mountain was still whole.

  She picked up her double-bladed axe, whirled it round her head and flung it at Ebih’s skull. But the axe bounced off a cliff face and clattered down to the feet of the mountain.

  ‘Is that all you have, little goddess?’

  Inanna screamed in frustration, seized her long lance and aimed it at her enemy’s belly.

  Then she leaped off the chariot.

  The tip of the lance cut through the smoky air, as Inanna forced it in a straight line towards Ebih. The vicious point struck the mountain’s flank, hard and true. But the lance split and splintered in Inanna’s fist.

  The goddess crashed into the side of the mountain.

  Inanna lay on the hot stony slope, winded and bruised.

  ‘Have you come to worship me, little goddess?’ rumbled Ebih.

  Inanna scrambled to her feet. She’d broken almost all her weapons on this arrogant insulting mountain, but she still had her sword.

  She sprinted to the top of the mountain, she stood tall and magnificent on his summit, and she called, ‘Last chance, Ebih. Bow down to me now or I will drive this sword into your heart!’

  ‘I will not bow down to you, tiny insignificant goddess,’ bellowed Ebih. ‘I contain the mighty power of the earth and I demand your respect.’

  ‘You will get nothing from me but my blade!’ Inanna drove the heaven-sharpened sword deep into the heart of the mountain.

  She yelled in triumph as her last blade finally penetrated the mountain’s ash-grey skin.

  Then she felt the sword get lighter and lighter, as the heat of the mountain melted the blade. The sword was swallowed by Ebih, and Inanna was left holding a warm misshapen hilt.

  She stood alone and weaponless on the summit of the hot smoking mountain.

  Ebih laughed at her. He chuckled and sniggered and chortled. Vast amused tremors rippled across his rocky ribcage.