The Lion and the Mouse

In a wide savanna where the grass waved like the sea, a lion named Kito ruled with a loud roar and a proud stride. Animals respected him, but many also feared him.

One afternoon, Kito lay under a shady tree, enjoying a quiet nap. Nearby, a tiny mouse named Mina hurried through the grass, searching for fallen seeds.

Mina wasn’t watching her steps. She scampered over Kito’s paw.

The lion’s eyes snapped open.

With one swift movement, Kito pinned Mina gently but firmly beneath his huge paw.

“Little creature,” Kito growled, “why do you disturb my rest?”

Mina trembled. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please don’t eat me.”

Kito’s whiskers twitched as he considered her. “A mouse is hardly a meal,” he said. “But you have annoyed me.”

Mina gathered her courage. “Great Lion, if you spare me, I will help you someday.”

Kito laughed—deep and booming. “You? Help me? You are smaller than one of my claws.”

But something about Mina’s brave little voice softened Kito’s heart. Perhaps he remembered being young once. Perhaps he simply enjoyed surprising himself.

“Go,” Kito said, lifting his paw.

Mina squeaked in relief. “Thank you! I won’t forget.”

Days passed.

Then one morning, Kito walked proudly near the river when he heard a strange sound—ropes tightening, leaves rustling, hunters whispering.

Before he could turn, a strong net dropped from above and wrapped around him. Kito roared and pulled. The ropes held. He clawed and bit, but the net only tangled tighter.

For the first time in a long time, Kito felt afraid.

From a nearby bush, Mina watched with wide eyes. She recognized the net: hunters used it to capture large animals.

Mina remembered Kito’s mercy.

She rushed forward. “Don’t move too much!” she called. “You’ll only tighten it.”

Kito blinked. “Mina? How can you help?”

Mina didn’t answer. She began gnawing the rope with her sharp little teeth. It was thick and rough, and it hurt her mouth. But Mina kept chewing.

Chew. Chew. Chew.

A rope strand snapped.

The net loosened just a little.

Mina moved to the next rope and chewed again, working as fast as she could.

At last, several ropes broke, and a large opening appeared. Kito pushed carefully and slipped free.

The hunters, hearing the ropes snap, ran toward the sound. Kito didn’t hesitate—he sprinted into the tall grass and vanished.

When he finally stopped to catch his breath, Mina sat on a rock nearby, exhausted.

Kito lowered his head. “You saved me,” he said quietly.

Mina smiled. “I told you I would help someday.”

Kito felt warmth spread in his chest—not pride, but gratitude. “I was wrong to laugh,” he admitted. “Kindness is never too small.”

From that day on, Kito became a different kind of king. He still protected the savanna, but he also listened more. And Mina? Mina walked a little taller, knowing she had proven a truth for everyone:

Even the smallest friend can make the biggest difference.