It has been several months since the time came for the royal sons to choose their bride. Tartaglia, the eldest son and receiver of the royal throne, could not decide on the choice of his future wife. A tall and handsome red-haired guy just flies in the clouds, during such an important issue as procreation.

And so his Majesty, tired of such frivolity of his son, ordered him to go out into the courtyard in the snowy winter and shoot an arrow in any direction. He said that whoever happened to be near this arrow would become his wife.

Aiming at the sky, the red-haired guy, kissed by the sun, which caused freckles to appear on his cheeks and nose, aimed an arrow high into the sky. Releasing the bowstring he had pulled a second ago, he squinted.

Well done for a long time. His fur hat and sheepskin coat began to be covered with a rather dense layer of snowflakes. Climbing through the thorns of the trees and sinking knee-deep in snow, the tsar's son came out into a clearing, which, like everything around, was covered with snow. His arrow seemed to be too far from anything, so Tartaglia came up and wanted to pull it out of a thick snowdrift.

As he got closer, a small hole in the snow caught his eye. A spruce branch broke from behind from the weight of the snow, and a small white weasel crept out of the hole with a squeak. That creature turned out to be you... Is it possible that a young man will have to marry some small animal?