In the Kingdom of Arbor, there lived a family of woodcutters. Thomas and his wife, Martha, kept a small wooden hut in the middle of the forest where they raised their son Tom. Though far from rich, they lived well.
Every day, Tom worked alongside his father chopping trees and helped around the house. In his spare time, he carved small pieces of wood into toys. He made animals and toy soldiers as well as flutes and whistles.
But his real passion was for horses. As a small boy, he had watched Arbor's soldiers parade through the town on magnificent stallions, and he dreamed of galloping through the fields with the wind blowing through his hair.
Tom constantly begged his parents for a horse of his own, but every time they said no.
"We just can't afford a horse, son,” his dad would say. “They aren't for the likes of us.” Or “We can't just collect gold from the stream" was another favourite.
Today was no different. After his father told him no, Tom went to the nearby pond. He sat on a log and skipped stones across the water.
"Why so glum?” someone asked from behind him.
Tom jumped at the sound of the voice. “Uncle Solomon, I didn't know you were here.”
"I just stopped by,” Solomon said sitting down. “What's wrong?”
"I want a horse more than anything, but my father says we can't afford one.” Tom threw another rock, harder this time.
"Why do you want a horse so badly?" Uncle Solomon threw a rock too.
"I've always wanted to know how it felt to ride one. The soldiers who ride them are always so proud, like they know they're special.”
"You are already special Tom, even without a horse.”
"No, I'm not. I'm just a woodcutter's son. All I'll ever be is a woodcutter. What's special about that?"
Solomon stroked his chin, contemplating. “What if I was able to help you?"