In the kingdom of Igodomigodo, the Grand Tree Hollow stood with a crooked majesty — a monument to power, layered with the scars of decrees and denials. The roots twisted beneath the soil, much like the truths that fed them.
At the hollow’s center, King Lion reclined on his throne of brittle branches. Time had dulled the brilliance of his mane, and though his eyes still held the echo of past roars, they now scanned the hollow with weary indifference. He had become what they called a “decorative roar” — loud only when summoned, silent when it mattered most.
Beside him, Fox Akpabio perched with the sly confidence of one who had mastered the art of the whisper. His fur gleamed unnaturally, as though polished with the oil of stolen riches. It was said that the Fox could speak a thousand words and mean none, yet still walk away applauded.
Below them, the creatures of Igodomigodo gathered — Ants with backs hunched from endless labor, Bees stripped of their golden honey, and the ever-fickle Parrot, who rehearsed his lines before even knowing which side to mimic.
“Let the session begin!” squawked the Parrot, his chest puffed with self-importance. “May truth prevail!”
The hollow rumbled with laughter. In Igodomigodo, truth was a beast often hunted but rarely caught.
But today, something stirred.
From the shadows emerged Leopard Natasha, her coat gleaming like molten gold. The creatures murmured as she approached — some in awe, others in fear. For it was said that the Leopard’s words were sharper than claws, and her courage often left the Fox twitching.
And today, her voice was set to pierce.
“Creatures of Igodomigodo,” Natasha began, her voice steady, “I stand before you not to indulge in the dance of deceit, but to demand the truth we have long been denied.”
Read Also:
The hollow shifted. Demand? In Igodomigodo, demands were like unripe fruit — dangerous to pluck.
Fox Akpabio’s grin sharpened. “Ah, Natasha,” he purred, his tail flicking. “Your passion is… admirable. But perhaps misplaced. After all, who are we without a little compromise? Is it not the art of the deal that keeps the tree standing?”
“Compromise?” Natasha’s eyes gleamed. “No, Fox. What you call compromise, we call corruption. And what you call diplomacy is nothing but the laughter of Hyenas over stolen bones.”
Hyena the Greedy snorted, gnawing loudly on what appeared to be the last remnants of decency. “Hunger is a curse,” he cackled. “But who are we to deny our appetites?”
The hollow echoed with uneasy laughter. The creatures had grown accustomed to Hyena’s feasts — it was easier to pretend the scraps were enough.
But Natasha did not yield. “While you feast, the Ants break their backs. The Bees toil for honey they never taste. And when I dared to ask why, I was not answered with reason — I was answered with ridicule.”
Fox Akpabio leaned forward, his smile thin. “Ah, Leopard. Surely you know how words twist in the wind. Perhaps you misunderstood. After all, a woman’s ears sometimes hear what they wish to.”
A sharp gasp rippled through the hollow. The Fox had shown his teeth.
But Natasha was unmoved. “And when the words failed, you reached with your paws. You think because I am a Leopard, I do not know the bite of power without consent? You called it ‘politics,’ but I name it what it is — harassment.”
The hollow stilled. Even the Parrot, who usually mimicked without thought, found no words to echo.
Fox Akpabio’s grin faltered, though it never fully disappeared. “These are… dangerous claims, Leopard.”
“No,” Natasha retorted. “The danger lies in the silence.”
To be continued……
