“The further a society drifts from the truth, the more it will hate those who speak it.”
— George Orwell
Here we go again!
Once upon a time, in a world scattered with forests, rivers, and rolling hills, lived animals of all kinds. Some were fierce, some were gentle, but most coexisted with the usual disputes of life—nothing the forest hadn’t seen before. But among them lived the wolves. And the wolves were different.
The wolves were not content, in fact they were never content unless they shed blood and created chaos. Where others sought peace, the wolves sought control. Ruthless, cunning, and cold, they turned every forest they entered into a battlefield. Where they went, they brought destruction. But the strange thing about wolves—they cried out in pain while they were devouring others, always claiming to be the victim, even as blood dripped from their teeth.
They would leave trails of mayhem, only to stand atop the ashes and proclaim, “We have brought peace.” They claimed forests were empty—after slaughtering every living thing. They told tales of threats—threats no one else saw, no one else could confirm—but conveniently used to justify every invasion.
Centuries passed. And in the aftermath of their own endless wars, they decided to stop fighting each other and came together and said: Let’s create a new world order. Let’s unite the forests. And so, they invited the very animals they had hunted, maimed, and nearly exterminated.
“We’re peaceful sheeps now,” they said. “Let us all be friends.”
All animals came together with the vision and mission to create a prosperous and peaceful world for all, and they formed a union.
But behind the scenes, the wolves rigged the union from the start. No motion could pass unless they approved it. Even if every creature in the forest roared in protest, if the wolves nodded, it passed. And if all cried out for help, but the wolves shrugged, nothing moved.
They were never in the union for unity. They joined to contain the chaos they planned to unleash—to make sure when destruction came, it came under their command. They didn’t want peace; they wanted control. And they needed the rest of the animal kingdom to believe they were acting on behalf of all life, even while committing the very crimes they pretended to prevent.
In their world, they defined what was criminal and what wasn’t.
The definition of wrongdoing shifted depending on who did it—whether it was someone close to the wolves, or the wolves themselves. Justice was no longer about right or wrong. It was about who held the leash.
They wrote the rules of the union. A playbook. One they expected everyone else to honour, while they themselves tossed it aside whenever it didn’t serve them.
Years passed again. And as their hunger returned, the wolves spoke of a “rooster” living in a distant forest. “It is the most dangerous animal in the world,” they said. “Look at its fangs! Its evil cries!” Though the rooster had never left its farm and never harmed a single soul, they had grainy photos, blurry footage, and anonymous experts—experts no one outside the wolves had ever chosen confirmed that indeed that rooster was the most dangerous animal on earth.
And just like that, the majority wolf population believed it and the rest of the world had no choice but to accept it and the few voices that rejected the wolves’ claims were called conspiracy theorists or supporters of evil. The baby animals were fed this fear from the moment they opened their eyes. The media, now controlled by wolves, repeated the story endlessly: The rooster is evil. It attacks sheep. It threatens bears. No animal is safe.
So, the wolves did what they always do. They came up as a gang, sorry, I meant as a pack and launched a “preventive” strike. Killed everything in their path and hang the rooster. They burned the forest. They tore through the farm. They called it justice.
They called it peace. Claimed the wealthiest parts of what was once a thriving farm. Declared victory for peace and freedom while the animals that once lived happily in that thriving farm scattered around the world trying to survive and rebuild what was left of their lives.
Then a few years later, a giraffe from another forest started building something new, something hopeful, but once again, the wolves raised their paws and said: “The giraffe is evil.”
Well, you already know how the story ends.
This is the world we live in. Where wolves wear sheep’s clothing. Where victims are painted as monsters. Where justice is written by those who profit from war. And where peace is just a slogan spoken over ruins.
But the forest remembers. And some animals still see.
Yes, some of us still see. Some of us still remember. Some of us refuse to forget.
Let’s us make it an interesting conversation:
Have you seen the wolves hiding in plain sight?
What Forest do you think they’ll come for next?
Let’s talk about it in the comments.
Salima
Just me thinking out loud over here