Tilda the Tortoise and the Great Meadow Run

Chapter 1: A race where the slowest runner wins because she stopped to help someone

In a green valley called Clover Crossing, the animals held a race every spring. It was called the Great Meadow Run, and it was the biggest event of the year. The course wound from the old stone gate, through the buttercup fields, over the wobbly log bridge, up Thimble Hill, and down to the finish line beside the pond, where the winner received the Golden Acorn.

Everyone had a favorite to win.

"Flint the hare will win again," said the rabbits. "Nobody's faster."

"Not this year," said the foxes. "Ember has been training since winter."

And hardly anyone said a word about Tilda, the little tortoise, who was entering for the very first time.

Tilda was small, with a mossy green shell and a quiet, kind smile. She knew perfectly well she was the slowest creature in the valley.

"Why are you racing?" asked Flint the hare, stretching his long legs at the starting line. "You'll be done sometime next week."

"I'd like to see the whole course," said Tilda cheerfully. "I've never been past the bridge. And I think it will be fun."

Flint snorted, but not unkindly. "Well, good luck."

The mayor, a stout old badger, raised a flag. "Runners, ready? Three... two... one... GO!"