Maq Masi Blog

Previous Chapter: https://maqmasi.uk/2024/11/21/the-animal-kingdom-speaks-a-tale-of-morality-ethics-and-humanity/

The old man Arthur’s farmhouse stood quietly at the edge of an endless meadow, its weathered boards soaked in years of sunshine, rain, and the occasional storm. Life here followed a familiar rhythm—the gentle cluck of hens, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the steady hoof beats of Storm and Thunder, the ponies who brought the farm to life. Storm, the elder, carried himself with a quiet dignity, while Thunder, smaller and more excitable, always seemed ready to stir up mischief. Together, they were the heart of the farm, as inseparable as the sun and the sky.

One crisp morning, the old man’s granddaughter, Lily, tugged on his sleeve as he tinkered with a broken fence post. “Grandpa,” she began, her brow furrowed with concern, “Storm’s been acting strange. Yesterday, I saw him near the woods… talking to a donkey.”

The old man squinted at her. “A donkey? Are you sure?”

She nodded earnestly. “It was sleek and shiny, like it doesn’t belong here. And when it saw me, it bolted. But Storm just stayed there, pretending not to notice me.”

The old man straightened, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Animals make friends in the oddest places. But a donkey? Hmm… we’ll keep an eye on him.”

Over the next few days,Lily’s suspicions deepened. Every evening, just as the sun dipped below the hills, the donkey would appear near the fence, its dark eyes gleaming as it lingered near the ponies. Storm seemed entranced, his gaze fixed on the woods beyond the meadow, while Thunder danced nervously, unsure whether to follow his brother’s lead.

And then, one morning, the ponies were gone.

Lily was the first to notice. She burst into the kitchen, breathless and pale. “Grandpa! They’re gone! Storm and Thunder—they’re not in the paddock!”

Her older brother, Max, sprang to his feet. “I’ll check the trails!” he called, grabbing his jacket as he ran out the door.

The old man moved slowly, his face creased with worry as he fetched his walking stick. “Calm down, Lily,” he said gently, though his voice carried an edge of tension. “We’ll find them.”

Max returned an hour later, shaking his head. “No tracks near the usual paths. It’s like they vanished.”

Lily wrung her hands, her voice trembling. “It’s that donkey! It’s been leading Storm away. I know it!”

The old man’s gaze hardened. He’d heard stories—wild donkeys leading ponies into the hills with promises of freedom, only to abandon them in unfamiliar terrain. “Saddle up,” he said firmly. “We’re bringing them home.”

For three long days, they searched. The farm grew eerily quiet in the ponies’ absence, their playful energy replaced by a hollow stillness. Finally, on the fourth day, the family stumbled upon a hidden valley nestled between the hills. The air was thick with the scent of wildflowers, and the grass shimmered in the golden afternoon light.

“There!” Clara pointed, her voice a mix of relief and disbelief.

Storm and Thunder stood side by side, grazing peacefully near a cluster of trees. Beside them loomed the donkey, its eyes sharp and mischievous as it brayed loudly, as if mocking the humans’ arrival.

Lily slid off her horse and ran toward the ponies, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Storm! Thunder! What were you thinking?”

The ponies froze, their ears flicking nervously. Storm took a tentative step forward, his head low, but Thunder remained behind, shifting uneasily under the donkey’s watchful gaze.

The old man approached slowly, his voice steady but firm. “You’ve caused a lot of trouble, boys. What’s going on here?”

For a moment, there was only silence, broken by the distant call of a bird. Then Lily knelt beside Storm, her hand resting on his muzzle. “You didn’t have to run away,” she whispered, her voice filled with hurt. “If you wanted something different, you could’ve told us. But you scared us, Storm. You’re part of this family.”

Storm’s ears twitched at her words. Slowly, he nudged her shoulder, his large, dark eyes brimming with guilt.

Thunder hesitated, glancing back at the donkey, which brayed again, louder this time, as if to reclaim their attention. But Storm snorted sharply, stepping in front of his younger brother. With a flick of his tail, he began walking back toward the humans, his steps resolute.

“Good boy,” the old man murmured, his voice softening.

Thunder followed, his youthful spirit reignited as he playfully bumped against Storm’s side. The donkey stamped its hoof in frustration, its cries echoing through the valley as the family led the ponies away.

As they reached the edge of the meadow, Lily turned to Storm, her hand still on his neck. “Promise you won’t do this again,” she said softly.

Storm whinnied in response, a sound full of warmth and reassurance.

That evening, the ponies stood once more in their paddock, the soft glow of twilight casting long shadows across the farm. The old man sat on the porch beside Lily, watching the meadow come alive again with the ponies’ gentle presence.

“Do you think they’ll stay this time?” Lily asked, her voice tinged with hope.

The old man smiled, his eyes crinkling as he watched Storm nuzzle Thunder. “They’ve seen what’s out there. And they’ve learned where they truly belong.”

Above them, the first stars began to dot the sky, their light spilling over the farmhouse and the meadow. It wasn’t just a farm; it was home—a place of trust, love, and belonging that no wild promise could ever replace.