Once, in a little village nestled beside quiet, sleepy fields, lived a boy named Tomas. Tomas wasn't very old, but he knew how to be very helpful.
He lived with his dear mother, who worked very hard from sunup to sundown.
It was a very cold winter, one of the coldest anyone could remember.
The ground was frozen solid, and the trees stood bare, shivering in the wind.
Food, which was usually easy to find, had become very, very scarce.
Each family had just enough to get by, if they were very careful.
One chilly morning, Tomas's mother handed him a small, round loaf of bread.
“This is your lunch, my brave boy,” she said softly. “Be sure to eat it all.”
Tomas held the warm bread close. It was all he would have until supper.
He walked to the frozen fields to help his mother, the crisp air nipping at his nose.
As he sat down to eat his precious lunch, a dark shadow fluttered nearby.
A crow, with eyes like shiny buttons, landed on a bare branch of an old oak tree.
The crow looked very thin. Its feathers were ruffled, and it shivered slightly in the breeze.
Tomas watched the crow, and the crow watched Tomas and his bread.
The crow looked so hungry, hungrier than Tomas had ever been.
Tomas felt a little rumble in his own tummy, but his heart felt a bigger ache for the poor bird.
Slowly, carefully, Tomas broke his small loaf of bread in half.
He held out one half to the crow, placing it gently on a nearby stone.
The crow tilted its head, its bright eyes studying Tomas.
Then, with a quick flutter, it swooped down, snatched the bread, and flew away without a single caw.
Tomas watched it disappear into the gray sky.
He ate his remaining half of bread, feeling a bit empty but also a bit warm inside.
“Did I do a foolish thing?” he wondered. “Giving away my own food?”
But a little voice inside him whispered that it felt like the right thing to do.