In the high meadows lived a large, clumsy creature named Bramblehorn. With shaggy fur and antlers like tree branches, he was always knocking things over—but never meant harm. He just wanted to help.
He brought too much water to wilting crops, knocked over trees while trying to save one, and once sneezed so hard he ruined a wedding cake. Still, villagers grew fond of him. Children braided flowers into his fur. He stood guard over sheep at night and left herbs for the sick.
When a forest fire broke out, Bramblehorn didn’t run. He walked into the flames, broke a clearing, and stopped the fire’s path. Afterward, singed and tired, he lay down in a field while people gathered to thank him.
From then on, when he knocked over a cart or sat on a fence, the villagers just smiled and said, “There goes Bramblehorn.” Because even with clumsy hooves and wild sneezes, his heart was the gentlest in the land.