The dark curtain of night fell.

  The sleepers slept, and night’s companion began to sing.

  Once more, her wail of sorrow pierced the silence.

  A scream so deep, it calmed the mountain from bursting.

  But why did her voice wake no one?

  Dawn returned, and once more, the lion stepped into the pond.

  He had come for blood.

  Once again, the animals bowed as he stepped into the water.

  He searched the waters, and again, he searched—but the one whose death was born today was not there.

  So he clenched his jaws and turned his waiting fury toward the two hyenas.

  The hyenas darted off—each in a different direction, yet chasing the same prey: the beautiful deer of the field, whose turn it was to die.

  The hyenas sniffed out fear and tracked it with skill.

  Where are you, deer? What will become of you?

  Can you still run? Is your baby clutched in your teeth—or still alive inside your soul?

  Will anyone come for you? Death is on your trail—so go, go as far as your soul can carry you…

  Deer, why are you sitting in the snow? Your place is the meadow. Don’t stay in the snow—you’ll be seen. Rise. Rise and run. Life is with you…

  The hyenas ran with joy, their shrieks signaling to one another where the deer was hiding.

  Another eye was watching them.

  It wasn’t fear he followed—but the scent of life, and the will to live.

  He had circled the forest completely, so that no eye would catch him.

  Silent and slow, he passed through the trees—no leaf cracked, no branch snapped.

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  The sun was watching him, yet he cast no shadow.

  He was like a shadow himself, running behind the hyenas.

  They could not see him—but they could feel him.

  The hyenas saw the deer—and the deer saw them.

  She trembled, but she did what she had to.

  She nursed her child and licked him clean, drinking in life down to its final drop.

  She rose to carry him in her teeth—but she couldn’t. Her teeth weren’t made for that.

  The hyenas reached her, side by side, full of joy.

  The deer froze for a moment—not in fear, but in wonder.

  She saw someone she knew.

  Someone cast out, kept distant—yet always, always by their side.

  She saw the voice behind the night’s sorrowful cries—arriving silently, his eyes lit with joy.

  The hyenas didn’t understand what hit them.

  One moment, they were running—

  the next, a mountain struck.

  The hyenas collapsed, unconscious, into the earth.

  The deer, overwhelmed with joy, bowed in gratitude and awe.

  She was ashamed of how she, like the others, had once treated him.

  But The Unbounded did not notice her bow. He saw only the child—and smiled at them both.

  He pressed his body against the fawn to warm him.

  Then he gently took the baby in his mouth, and the deer followed him—

  as they set off toward shelter…

  That day slowly came to an end.

  The wind gently stirred the branches and the blossoms.

  The sound of the stream, the breeze, and the leaves wove into one another.

  Night fell, and the stars gathered over the pond and the brook.

  And then, sleep carried the forest dwellers away...

  That strange, distant cry did not rise tonight.

  Mother Dog and the old dog exchanged a quiet glance.

  The girl gave a hopeful yip, twirled once, and smiled into the night.

  That night, the owl kept its silence.

  The story continues in Part 6: The Old Dog Turned North…

  But the path he walked is not over.

  In the next part, we follow him.

  Thank you for reading. Your thoughts and reflections will help guide this story’s journey.

  Kamran217