Fair Brother said, “Little Sister, what have you done with your hair in which you used to fetch home the wind? And why do you never go and bring me flowers or sing me the song of the birds?” And Little Sister looked up and nodded, but never answered or moved from her task, for her fingers were slow, and the moon was quick in its growing. One night Fair Brother was lying asleep, and his head was filled with dreams of the outer world into which he longed to go. The full moon looked in through the open door, and Little Sister laughed in her heart as she slipped the birch shoes on to his feet. “Now run, dear feet,” she whispered; “but do not outrun mine.” Up in his sleep leapt Fair Brother, for the dream of the white birch had hold of him. A lady with a dark hood and grey eyes full of the laughter of leaves beckoned him. Out he ran into the moonlight, and Little Sister laughed as she ran with him. In a little while she called, “Do not outrun me, Fair Brother!” But he seemed not to hear her, for not a bit did he slacken the speed of his running. Presently she cried again, “Rest with me a while, Fair Brother! Do not outrun me!” But Fair Brother’s feet were fleet after their long idleness, and they only ran the faster. “Ah, ah!” she cried, all out of breath. “Come back to me when you have done running, Fair Brother.” And as he disappeared among the trees, she cried after him, “How will you know the way, since you were never here before? Do not get lost in the wood, Fair Brother!” She lay on the ground and listened, and could hear the white birch shoes carrying him away till all sound of them died. When, next morning, he had not returned, she searched all day through the wood, calling his name. “Where are you, Fair Brother? Where have you lost yourself?” she cried, but no voice answered her. For a while she comforted her heart, saying, “He has not run all these years--no wonder he is still running. When he is tired he will return.” But days and weeks went by, and Fair Brother never came back to her. Every day she wandered searching for him, or sat at the door of the little wattled hut and cried. One day she cried so much that the ground became quite wet with her tears. That night was the night of the full moon, but weary with grief she lay down and slept soundly, though outside the woods were bright. In the middle of the night she started up, for she thought she heard somebody go by; and, surely, feet were running away in the distance. And when she looked out, there across the doorway was the print of the birch shoes on the ground she had made wet with her tears. “Alas, alas!” cried Little Sister. “What have I done that he comes to the very door of our home and passes by, though the moon shines in and shows it him?” After that she searched everywhere through the forest to discover the print of the birch shoes upon the ground. Here and there after rain she thought she could see traces, but never was she able to track them far.