The Lion and the Little Hare

There was once a lion who thought the whole forest belonged to him. And in a way, it did. He was the biggest, the strongest, the loudest of them all. But being big and strong had made him lazy, and a little bit cruel. Every single morning he would go crashing through the trees and kill far more animals than he could ever eat. A deer for breakfast. A wild pig, just because it happened to be there. Three rabbits he did not even finish.

The animals were frightened. They were also, slowly, running out of animals.

So one day they came to him all together, every one of them trembling, and they made him a promise. “Great king,” they said, “you do not need to tire yourself hunting. Every day, one of us will come to you on our own. You will never go hungry. And the rest of us can stop being so afraid.” The lion liked the sound of that. Less work, same dinner. He agreed.

And so it went, day after day. One animal would walk the long, sad walk to the lion’s cave, and the lion would eat, and the forest would breathe a little easier. Until the morning it was the hare’s turn.

Now, the hare was small. The smallest, really. But oh, he was clever. And as he walked, he was thinking. He took his time. He stopped to nibble some grass. He watched a beetle go about its business. He arrived so late that by the time he reached the cave, the lion was pacing and growling, his belly roaring louder than he was.

“You are late,” snapped the lion. “And look at the size of you. Barely a mouthful.”

The hare bowed very low. “Forgive me, your majesty. There were five of us coming to you this morning. But on the way, another lion leapt out at us. He swallowed the other four whole. And he said the forest was his now. Not yours.”

The lion went very still. “Another lion. In my forest.”

“He is waiting for you,” said the hare softly. “Shall I show you where he lives?”

The lion was already on his feet.

The hare led him through the trees to an old stone well, deep and dark and full of cold water. “Down there, sire,” he whispered.

The lion stalked to the edge and looked in. And there, glaring back up out of the water, was a lion. A furious one. Mouth open, ready to fight.

“How dare you come into my forest,” the lion roared. The lion in the water roared back without a sound.

That was too much. The lion jumped.

There was a splash. Then the forest was quiet. And the little hare sat at the edge of the well for a moment, twitching his nose, before he turned and trotted home to tell the others they could stop being afraid now.