There are stories that are not told with names but with beasts and shadows. In this valley, the snow is no longer pure — it is stained, trampled, and marked by the arrogance of a bird that believed promises whispered by predators. What follows is not a fable for children, but a mirror held up to history, to hubris, and to the cost of ignoring both.
On the edge of the ancient forest, where the snow met the shadows, a gathering of beasts conspired.
The Rooster, loud and proud, flapped his golden feathers and declared himself unafraid. His chest puffed, his crow sharp, he believed that with enough noise he could rule the clearing.
But behind him lurked others.
The Lion, once king of the wild, still roared as though the earth trembled at his voice. Yet age had dulled his claws, and his roar carried more memory than menace. Still, he promised the Rooster: “Tease the Bear, and I will protect you.”
The Wolves, circling in shadows, echoed the Lion’s vow. Their howls filled the night, but their eyes gleamed only for the scraps they hoped to seize.
The Fox whispered cunning plans, urging the Rooster closer to danger, knowing chaos would serve him best.
The Snake slithered at his feet, hissing assurances, whispering of safety, though its tongue was forked with deceit.
And in the distance, the Hyenas laughed — their shrill, vile cackles piercing the night. They did not promise, nor protect. They only waited,
The Rooster crowed that the Bear was old, wounded, and could be mocked into retreat.
And the Rooster did not go alone. He summoned his fellow Roosters, each proud, each convinced that together their crowing and pecking could force the Bear back into his cave. Behind them, the other beasts watched and whispered.
So, the Roosters marched against the Bear.
The Bear, heavy and patient, tried stillness first. He lowered his head, offered peace, even feigned humility. For he had no desire to slaughter foolish birds.
But the Roosters, emboldened by the chorus of promises, pecked and clawed. They believed that behind them, the Lion would roar into battle, the Wolves would sink their teeth, the Fox would join the fray, the Snake would bite, and the Hyenas would gnash their jaws.
They all were wrong.
The Bear’s patience ended. He struck — not once, but again and again. Each blow shattered wings, scattered feathers, and silenced cries. The snow ran red with the pride of Roosters.
Still, after each massacre, the beasts crept back and whispered, “You are going to win in the long run, we are with you still. Keep going.” Not with their flesh, not with their blood — but with empty words, hollow as the winter wind.
The Rooster, blinded by pride and desperate for the promises to be true, sent wave after wave of his own kind against the Bear. And each time, the Bear grew fiercer, his strikes heavier, his shadow darker across the forest.
Now the land lies in ruin. The Rooster looks upon his fields, seized and scarred, his flock broken. The Lion grows weary, his roar thin, no longer wishing to fight a battle that bleeds his strength away. The Wolves prowl but do not leap. The Fox has vanished into silence. The Snake has shed its skin and slithered far. The Hyenas still laugh, feasting on the fallen.
And the Rooster — bloodied, hollow, yet too proud to face peace — stands before the Bear, unable to retreat, unable to reckon with the truth. For to accept peace now would be to admit the cost of his arrogance, the betrayal of his allies, and the ruin of his land.
The forest whispers: Beware the pride that blinds you, the allies who cheer but never bleed, and the laughter of hyenas that grows louder as you fall. For history is not written by the promises of the beasts, but by the paw that strikes, and the silence that follows.
And so, in the Valley of Red Snow, silence reigns — broken only by the wind that whispers a truth older than empires: the beasts may play their games, but it is always the roosters who pay in blood.
💌 Reader, when you hear voices urging defiance, ask not who speaks the loudest — but who will bleed beside you when the Bear rises.
Salima
Just me thinking out loud over here