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#3 A bedtime story

The Unappreciative Cub and the Valiant Mother Wolf: A Tale of Wisdom and Gratitude

By Franz·CabotPublished 2 days ago 3 min read

In the tapestry of the untamed wilderness, where the whispers of ancient forests mingled with the howls of the night, a valiant mother wolf returned to her den, her jaws clenching a treasure earned through the sweat of her brow and the sharpness of her instincts—a succulent piece of meat, redolent with the essence of the hunt. Her gait was weary, yet proud, as she laid the prize before her impatient cub, who approached with the impetuousness of youth.

The young wolf, with fur as soft as the morning dew and eyes alight with the arrogance of inexperience, sniffed at the gift proffered by its progenitor. With a flick of its snout, it scornfully cast the meat aside, its voice tinged with petulance. "This is naught but the remnants of yesterday's glory, tough and unappetizing. I demand the tender, pristine flesh befitting a future alpha."

The mother wolf, her heart heavy with the weight of countless hunts, gazed upon her offspring with a blend of love and lamentation. The fruit of her loins, the legacy of her bloodline, yet blind to the toil etched into every sinew of the offering. With a voice tempered by the fires of survival, she spoke words that would etch themselves into the soul of the cub. "If you find my labors unworthy of your palate, then go forth and claim your sustenance by the strength of your own limbs."

Fueled by indignation and a burgeoning sense of self-importance, the cub ventured into the vast unknown, its spirit ablaze with the fervor of defiance. Its first foray into the realm of predators led it to a stately herd of deer, their forms graceful against the backdrop of the dappled sunlight. With naïve bravado, the cub lunged, only to be met with the harsh reality of the wild—a swift and powerful kick from a doe, intended to protect her fawn, sent the cub sprawling through the bracken, its cries of pain mingling with the rustling leaves.

Bruised and humbled, but not defeated, the cub redirected its ambition towards more attainable prey, setting its sights on a fleet-footed rabbit. Yet, the hare's agility proved a formidable adversary, its form blurring with each bound as it evaded the cub's pursuit. Hours bled into the afternoon, and the cub, panting and depleted, found itself no closer to victory, its stomach a hollow drum of hunger.

As the veil of twilight draped over the land, the cub's resolve wavered, its body aching from the relentless chase. In the gloaming, a lone mouse scurried along the forest floor, unaware of the predator lurking in the shadows. With a final surge of determination, the cub struck, capturing its quarry at last. Elated, it bore the small creature back to the den, its heart swelling with the pride of accomplishment.

Presenting the mouse to the mother wolf, the cub's joy was met with a sobering rebuke. The elder cast the rodent aside with a dismissive gesture, stating, "Such meager fare holds no place in the diet of wolves." The cub's countenance fell, tears pooling in its eyes as it protested, "You discard the fruits of my labor with such disdain?"

It was then that the mother wolf reclaimed the earlier piece of meat, its surface marred by the passage of time. She placed it before the disconsolate cub, her voice a gentle murmur amidst the chorus of the nocturnal wild. "Now you bear witness to the trials of the hunt," she intoned. "Each morsel is a testament to the struggle and sacrifice inherent in our existence. We must honor not only the fruits of our own labor but also the generosity of others with reverence and gratitude."

The cub, chastened by the tribulations of the day, regarded the seasoned meat with a newfound clarity. It understood the value of endurance, the wisdom of cherishing the present, and the folly of coveting the unattainable. From that moment, the cub embraced the teachings of its mother, its character forged in the crucible of adversity. Together, they stood as a testament to the eternal dance between wisdom and youth, the indomitable spirit of the wild, and the profound bond that unites parent and child in the ceaseless quest for survival and understanding.

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About the Creator

Franz·Cabot

Just a naive and sentimental individual, resemblinga drifting boat~

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    Franz·CabotWritten by Franz·Cabot

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