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Sarabas approaches Grandpa and finds Ida already giving a lengthy speech there.
There once lived a very weak warrior who disliked women intensely – he saw them as vile, inferior creatures, and the mere thought of physical intimacy with them made him nauseous. He felt such revulsion that it was as if ants were crawling on his veins, as if he faced the prospect of having a centipede living in his ear canal and eating live cockroaches. At their sight, he would frown so severely that his eyebrows eventually fused together. Then, he decided he needed to leave human society lest something terrible happen to him.
He went into caves – cold and dark, but free from this scourge. It was hard for him to live there, and he could only rely on himself. And whatever little he managed to acquire or craft was stolen by a mischievous snow fox. He was angry at her and tried for a long time to catch her, but all in vain – she was too agile; how could a weak warrior compete with such a nimble creature? But this strange acquaintance was not a curse but a blessing because through this peculiar interaction with the fluffy prankster, he didn’t go insane.
Over the years, the warrior grew accustomed to cave life, strengthened his spirit, matured physically, and filled his inventory with epic crafts – no one would recognize him now. However, this transformation did not bring him joy – the fox stopped visiting him. Why? Perhaps she simply got tired of him, which is sad, but at least she's safe and sound. But what if it wasn't like that, and the reason was completely different, more tragic and sad? This question troubled the warrior, and it became his reason to explore those parts of the underworld where no human foot had yet stepped.
In his search, he twisted off the head of a minotaur – a giant with a human body and a bull's head, made soup from a chimera – a monster stitched together from a lion, goat, and snake, wrapped gorgon hair around his fist – a monster whose hair consisted of snakes; he accomplished many feats, but when he finally found his fox, he was badly wounded – everyone knew he didn't have much time left. The fox was upset by this situation and asked the warrior what he wanted in his last moments. What he answered, no one alive can say – his words remained behind the dark veil of historical oblivion, but on that day, the fox turned into a beautiful human woman, and then she drowned in his snow-white desire – just as her fur once was. Or perhaps he drowned in her soft fur, resting both soul and body from the hardships of mortal life...? Bards and historians disagree about this! But the truth is that in his final moments, the long-standing anger that ruled the warrior’s heart finally subsided, but soon he himself faded away, leaving only a skeleton with a fractured pelvis. And what about the fox? With a flash of her golden eyes, she disappeared into the annals of history like a ghost roaming everywhere, continuing her great hunt.
Days, weeks, months, years, decades will pass, and one day, a descendant of that fox and that warrior will appear at your doorstep, and their words will tell the story of their shared past... He will place his hand on your shoulder - Sarabas places his hand on Grandpa's shoulder - and say "thank you for loving foxes," "thank you for opening your heart to our memories."