RAW KINGDOM ENTERTAINMENT

                       Thumbelina and Yoshi

 In the middle of the field, where the earth dipped into a shallow valley tangled with thorn and low creeping bushes, there lived a hedgehog—neither large nor small, but of that modest size that seldom draws the eye. Beside him, never far, moved a tortoise named Thumbelina, the two were inseparable friends. Together they passed their days in quiet slumber beneath the sheltering green, hidden from the burning gaze of the sun. Yet when evening came, and the last light slipped behind the far-off mountain peaks, the two friends would rouse themselves and wander out into the gathering dusk in search of their food. Thumbelina delighted in the delicate crunch of small white snails and the soft sweetness of fruit half returned to the earth.

 Yoshi, nimble and bold, hunted forest mice and swift lizards, and shared with her the late grapes he found glistening in the twilight. But in secret he cherished above all the taste of frog-meat, and the mere scent of it set his small dark eyes gleaming like stars in the gloom. In the cool hush of evening, when the first shadows began to gather beneath the boughs and the air grew still as if in waiting, he would wake up first. Blinking sleep from his eyes and stirring the quiet with a faint rustle, he would turn to Thumbelina and say:

“Come, rise, it is time to eat,” called his companion, eager as the sun was setting over the hills.

The turtle stirred with a groan, her limbs heavy with sleep and slowness,

“Oh, you rush as though the world might vanish before your meal!”

 Together they trudged from the little valley, their feet crunching the fallen leaves of early autumn. From the twisted branches of wild pear trees above, the magpies chattered and laughed, their voices sharp as broken bells, echoing across the hollow.

“The swift-walkers are passing, beware!” they cried in their hoarse, wind-worn voices.

“Make way! Make way!” called the quails from the tawny fields nearby, scattering like little brown leaves before a coming storm.

And in the shadowed hollows of the ravine the blackbirds—black as devils—sat hidden among briar and thorn, and their laughter tinkled there, thin and uncanny, as though the darkness itself had found a voice and was amused.

 Yoshi and Thumbelina pretended not to hear the mockery, and hurried with all their might to pass by their playful neighbors.

 They wandered all night through the nearby vineyards, searching the fields or gardens near the village. At dawn, wet from the dew, but full and satisfied, they returned to the valley and fell asleep sweetly, warmed by the morning sun. Their life was peaceful and comfortable. And perhaps our lazy fellows would have lived like this for many more years if one day the villagers had not plowed the valley and uprooted the thorns from it. Since then, Thumbelina and Yoshi were haunted by various sufferings and troubles, which are told in the pages that follow.