The Enemy’s Friendship

I was shaken to the core when a man stepped out of a car—it was him, the one who had extinguished the lives of my parents. I had always hated humans. I had seen my father and mother shot before my eyes, their skins stripped away. Their deaths had also destroyed my childhood happiness. During those dark days, my loyal friend, a leopard, and his family supported me. Other animals, instead of fearing me, showed compassion.

From that point, my life’s purpose was to avenge my parents. Whenever hunters camped in the forest, my friends and I would strike and vanish without a trace. The leopard’s younger brother, who had also escaped captivity as a child, had joined our group. He had an additional skill—he could understand human speech. This allowed us to intercept hunters’ plans before they could trap us.

One day, a distinguished middle-aged man entered the forest with his family in a large, sturdy vehicle. He had a wife, a teenage son, and a young daughter. We were surprised that anyone would enter this dangerous forest with their family. The leopard eavesdropped and informed us of their conversation. The man was concerned about enemies discovering a critical file he had to deliver, while reassuring his wife that their armored car would protect them from wild animals. I realized then that humans could also perform noble deeds, risking themselves for the safety of others.

I informed my companions that when the man departed, we would not attack, but would secretly protect his family. The next morning, he left, and we kept watch. The woman expressed surprise to her son that they had seen no dangerous animals despite warnings.

Suddenly, the roar of multiple vehicles reached us—three large cars with armed men emerged. My heart sank as I recognized one of them: the man who had killed my parents. He carried a gun in one hand and a spherical explosive in the other. I was ready to attack but waited to assess the situation. The leopard warned us that the bomb could destroy the car and everyone inside instantly.

The man forced his wife and children to the ground while laughing cruelly, explaining how he had learned of their hidden location from a trusted associate. He threatened to shoot the daughter first to make the parents pay. At that moment, I roared, and my entire group attacked. We overpowered the intruders before they could react. The man and his accomplices were eliminated.

The professor—the very man who had entered the forest with his family—stood unharmed. Surprisingly, his eyes held no fear; instead, there was a friendly gleam. He patted my head as if to show gratitude. I retreated into the bushes, followed by my companions, and the family left safely.

The next morning, police and media arrived, shocked at the scene. The professor explained the events, emphasizing that the animals’ actions were aimed at protecting the innocent, not harming humans unnecessarily. Before leaving, he noticed me peeking from the bushes, smiled, waved, and drove away. Overjoyed, I howled loudly and ran to share the news with my companions.

Even in a world full of pain and betrayal, it’s possible to choose compassion over hatred. True courage isn’t just about seeking revenge; it’s about protecting the innocent and doing what is right, even when others expect cruelty. Let your actions be guided by honor and empathy, because kindness can transform even the darkest circumstances. Let your actions be guided by honor and empathy, because kindness can transform even the darkest circumstances. Let your actions be guided by honor and empathy, because kindness can transform even the darkest circumstances.