“I see. Well, keep at it. I’ve got to go,” Pollux said, cutting his visit short for fear that
people might see him in the small, ugly house.
Kastor was glad for the distraction and always welcomed his brother. Sipping his water,
he looked around and examined his surroundings. The inside of his house was nothing special.
The tables and chairs were plain, and there was no bed. The outside was nothing to marvel at
either. There was no land to work, only a one–roomed house and a large star fruit tree.
“Have you seen the star fruit on that tree, honey? They‘re plump and ready to be picked,”
Kastor told his wife.
“Yes,” she said as she hung her straw hat on a nearby chair. “We can sell them at the
market and get a little something for them!”
“C’mon, help me.”
Kastor swiped a basket before he climbed up the tree, filling it with fruit. He lowered it
down slowly to his wife, who emptied it and nudged the rope gently, signaling him to pull it back
up. Just then, out of nowhere, a strong gust of wind blew and a large bird appeared. It was
apparent that this was no song bird – it was even bigger than Kastor himself and had a mean look
about it. The bird started gulping up the star fruit, eating hungrily. Kastor watched in shock.
“Go away bird! Go away!” his wife begged. “Don’t eat all the star fruit. We won’t
survive if you do! Please!”
The bird stopped eating, and declared in a booming voice, “For every star fruit I eat, I
will reward you with a piece of gold. Sew a bag that is the length and width of two of your
hands! I’ll be back tomorrow.”
With that, it flew off.
“Did you hear what I heard?” he asked his wife.
“A talking bird . . . Really? You’re going to believe it? What a mischievous thing it was,
ruining our tree like that.”
“You’re right, what was I thinking?” he said, helping his wife pick up the fallen fruit.
That night, the wind blew nonstop outside, making Kastor unable to sleep. He rolled
over and checked if his wife was sleeping soundly before he got out of bed to light a candle. He
grabbed an old shirt, and measured out the bag, sewing it by candlelight himself. That morning,
he got up early and waited by the tree. Again, the bird appeared next to the star fruit tree.
“Get on,” it commanded.
Kastor obliged and climbed on the back of the bird, gripping his small bag tight. He
began to get more and more nervous as they ascended higher and higher off the ground. After
what seemed like forever, they arrived on a deserted island. The island itself was small; he coul @