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Shelby the ancient tortoise had decided to run the annual Forest Marathon. This was a ridiculous endeavor, as Shelby moved at the speed of a slowly melting icicle, and the other participants were fleet-footed deer and jackrabbits.

"I shall win!" Shelby declared, tying a small, colorful banner to his shell.

"You're making good time, Grandpa!" yelled Chester, a young, speedy jackrabbit who had just lapped Shelby for the third time before the tortoise had even crossed the starting line.

Shelby was determined. He moved his legs with agonizing slowness, inch by painstaking inch. After two hours, he had advanced approximately six feet.

He stopped, frustrated, to catch his breath. Suddenly, he heard a loud, frantic whirring sound. A small, battery-operated toy race car zoomed up and bounced off his shell.

The car was being driven by Millicent, a hyperactive millipede, who was also participating. Millicent jumped out, tapping her tiny watch.

"Shelby! I’m going to lose! My little car’s battery is almost dead! And my legs are all tangled up from all the excitement!"

Shelby, ever the wise, old soul, looked at the exhausted millipede, then at her sputtering little car, and then at his own sturdy, reliable shell.

"Millicent," Shelby said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "I have not completed the distance, and you are not able to move. I propose a temporary alliance."

Millicent's tiny eyes lit up. She quickly attached the battery-operated wheels from her race car to the bottom of Shelby’s shell using a bit of sticky sap.

Shelby then took a breath and pushed his legs just enough to engage the motor. With a sudden whirr, Shelby the tortoise zoomed forward! He was still moving slowly—the tiny motor wasn't meant for a whole tortoise—but it was at least thirty times faster than before.

Shelby and Millicent, the unlikely team, crossed the finish line several hours later, long after the others had packed up. They were met only by the sleepy official, a badger named Mr. Quince. Mr. Quince looked at the zooming tortoise, sighed, and handed them a small, slightly squashed participation ribbon.

"You're a very slow winner, Shelby," he muttered.

"But a wheeled one!" Shelby declared, enjoying the slight breeze on his face.