Once upon a time on the sun-swept savanna, the hyena was known for something unusual among his kind. He had a good heart. While others snapped and snarled, he laughed, shared, and dreamed of building something better. A place. A club. A sanctuary where every animal, from the tallest giraffe to the tiniest ant, could belong.
One day, as the hyena walked the riverbank gathering stones for the foundation of his club, a smooth voice slithered through the tall grass.
“Building something, are you?” hissed the snake, her scales shimmering like oil in the sun. “You’ve got the heart. I’ve got the smarts. Together, we could build an empire.”
The hyena, ever hopeful and kind, agreed. He believed even a snake deserved a chance to do good.
And for a while, things seemed fine. The snake was clever, too clever. She spoke in contracts and whispers, made deals in the dark, and twisted the truth just enough to make wrong seem right. But the hyena, busy working and trusting, didn’t see it. Not yet.
The club walls went up. The vision took shape. Animals gathered in excitement.
But behind the scenes, the snake hoarded supplies, sabotaged friends, and spread rumors like venom through the roots of the savanna. And when the hyena tried to set things right, the snake turned on him, publicly.
“You wouldn’t have anything without me!” the snake shrieked. “I built this! I made you! I own this business, not you. You are nothing without me!”
It was then the snake’s mask cracked.
From the center of the half-built club, the snake reared up, eyes blazing, and spewed forth a rage so foul, so filled with hatred, that even the vultures flew off in silence. Her tail thrashed, her words poisoned the air, and all the animals watched in stunned horror.
At last, the hyena stood tall.
“This is not what I built. This is not who I am. And this creature,” he said, pointing to the snake now coiled in her own fury, “is not welcome here.”
For the first time in savanna history, all animals, predator and prey, agreed.
The snake was banished. Not just from the club, but from the savanna and the dream itself. Her name was never spoken again. And though every animal was welcome at the club, lion, leopard, even jackal, only one was forever turned away.
As for the hyena, he rebuilt. Stronger. Wiser. With friends who shared his heart.
And outside the walls, at the edge of the savanna in the tall grass, a bitter hiss still echoes.
But no one listens anymore.
Moral:
A kind heart may forgive many things, but trust must be earned, not taken. Even the most generous dream must have boundaries—or it will be devoured from within.
