The Mark on the Moving Boat
It was another sunset. Under an old tree by the river, the village animals gathered around an old tortoise sitting upon a smooth boulder.
“Long ago,” he began, “there was a swordsman traveling by boat through the mountains. The river was broad and green, cliffs rose on either side, and clouds drifted between their peaks. He felt joy. He rose to his feet and began to dance with his sword, the blade catching the golden sunlight.
“He stepped forward. He turned. He lifted the sword high above his head. Then, with one careless movement, the sword slipped from his hand and disappeared into the river.”