Gilbert the Goat and the Golden Mountain

Chapter 1: Health Is True Wealth

In a rocky hill country called Goldcrest Heights, there lived a young goat named Gilbert. Gilbert had a shiny black coat, curling horns, and one burning ambition: to be the richest goat in the land.

"Gold is everything," he would say, polishing his collection of shiny coins. "The more I have, the happier I'll be."

He worked from sunrise until long after dark, digging for gold in the Golden Mountain. He skipped breakfast to dig faster. He skipped lunch to dig longer. He drank muddy water from puddles because walking to the stream took too much time. And when the sun went down, he stayed up counting coins instead of sleeping.

"Rest is for the lazy," he told his friends. "Walks are a waste. Healthy food? Who has time?"

His friend Dotty the deer often brought him a basket of fresh greens and sweet apples. "Gilbert, please eat something," she would say.

"Later," he would mutter, waving her away, and later never came.

For a while, Gilbert's pile of gold grew taller and taller. But his body was quietly growing weaker.

His eyes grew tired and dim. His legs ached. His head pounded. He coughed in the dusty mine, and his tummy rumbled and twisted. His once-shiny coat turned dull and scruffy. Still he kept digging.

"I'll rest when I'm rich," he panted.

One chilly morning, he finally struck a glittering vein of gold, the biggest he had ever seen. He lifted his pickaxe high to swing.