A little hill at the edge of the village. Every day a shepherd boy grazed his sheep there. He set down his flute and yawned. "Ugh! Same hill, same grass, every day. Nothing fun ever happens!"
Then a naughty idea popped into his head. He cupped his hands and shouted, "Wolf! A wolf is here! Help, help!" Up the hill came the villagers, running with sticks. "Where? Where's the wolf?"
The boy rolled about laughing. "Hee hee! There's nothing there at all! I fooled every one of you!" An old man said, "Shame, child. You mustn't lie." Next day, again — "Wolf!" Now what do you think happens?
Then one evening, two yellow eyes lit up in the bushes. A real wolf! The sheep scattered, bleating baa-baa. The boy cried out, "Wolf! A real wolf this time! Somebody — please help!"
The villagers heard him — and nobody moved. "Hmph! That lying cry again." He called, and called again, till his voice cracked. Still no one came. And the wolf drove the two biggest sheep away into the dark.
Night settled over the hill. The sheep that were left huddled close against him. The boy sat in silence, hugging his knees, tears falling drip-drip. Today he had told the truth. And still no one believed him.
At dawn the old man climbed the hill. He laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "When someone lies, no one believes him — even when he tells the truth." The boy never lied again. Only the two sheep never came back.