Desperate to shift the tide, the Fox turned to his most reliable weapon — mockery.
“Tell me, Leopard,” he sneered, “will your righteousness fill the empty bellies? Will your accusations mend the hollow’s cracks? No kingdom thrives on virtue alone. The world is not built for the pure of heart.”
Natasha’s smile was slight, but it held the sharpness of a hunter’s gaze. “And yet, Fox, neither does it endure on the cunning of thieves.”
The hollow erupted in murmurs. The Ants, though small, straightened their backs. The Bees no longer buzzed with fear, but with something new — something dangerous.
And the Lion, for the first time in many moons, stirred.
“Let the creatures deliberate,” the King declared, his voice trembling. “But remember this — no tree stands forever.”
Fox Akpabio’s grin flickered. For the Fox knew that in Igodomigodo, when the ants march and the bees swarm, even the mightiest tree must fall.
The Grand Tree Hollow had always been a stage for cunning, but never had the audience been so restless. The creatures of Igodomigodo had seen many schemes unfold beneath the ancient branches—whispers turned to roars, power exchanged like stolen fruits—but this? This was a spectacle.
At the center of it all stood Leopard Natasha, her golden coat now carrying the weight of battle scars—not from claws, but from words sharpened into weapons. The creatures had watched her fight, had seen her challenge the old order, had listened as she demanded accountability from Fox Akpabio. She had become more than just a voice; she had become a presence, a force woven into the fabric of the hollow.
And that was why the Jackal had come.
Yahaya the Jackal was not new to the ways of Igodomigodo. He had once run its roads with ease, his paws greased with the fat of unearned feasts. But time had changed the scent of the wind, and now, he found himself clawing for a space he had once taken for granted.
He entered the hollow with the confidence of a beast who believed the feast was his by birthright. His fur was slick, his grin practiced. He did not need to fight for power; he simply claimed it, as if it had been waiting for him all along.
“My fellow creatures,” he began, his voice oiled with false humility, “it is no secret that this hollow needs strength. It needs leadership. It needs one who understands the ways of the land.”
Read Also:
The creatures shifted uncomfortably. They had heard these words before. They had heard them from Fox Akpabio. They had heard them from the Crocodiles who counted the hollow’s treasures with unseen hands. They had heard them from every beast who had fattened himself on their labor.
Leopard Natasha’s gaze did not waver. “And what strength do you bring, Jackal?”
Yahaya the Jackal smirked, as if the question were beneath him. “Experience, my dear Leopard. Wisdom. Stability. I do not stir the earth—I keep it firm beneath our paws.”
A murmur ran through the crowd. Some of the older creatures nodded, their memories short, their backs still bent from the weight of unseen burdens. But others—those who had begun to question, those who had dared to hope—remained silent.
Leopard Natasha took a step forward. “You speak of stability, Jackal. And yet, where were you when the hollow trembled? Where were you when the Fox took what did not belong to him? Where were you when the Ants cried out under the weight of his demands?”
The Jackal’s grin tightened. “I was where I have always been, watching, waiting. And now, I offer my service.”
Natasha laughed—a sound rich with something more than amusement. “Service? Or survival? You do not come to aid the hollow. You come to claim a seat at the feast.”
The creatures stirred. The Ants clicked their mandibles in agreement. The Bees buzzed in warning. Even the Parrot, who had once repeated the words of the powerful without thought, tilted his head as if, for the first time, he was considering the weight of what was being said.
The Lion, who had long since grown weary of the hollow’s games, lifted his head once more. His voice, though aged, still carried the ghost of a former roar. “And tell me, Jackal, why should the hollow trust you?”
The Jackal’s eyes gleamed. He had expected resistance, but he had not come empty-pawed. He turned, and from the shadows, a figure emerged.
It was the Tortoise—an old, cunning creature known for his ability to twist fate in his favor. He had survived many seasons, not by strength, but by patience. And today, he carried with him a parchment, marked with the Lion’s own seal.
“A rightful claim,” the Tortoise announced. “Signed and sealed. The Jackal has the right to the hollow’s seat.”
Gasps filled the space. The creatures of Igodomigodo had seen power stolen before, but never so brazenly, never with the ink still drying.
Leopard Natasha did not flinch. She did not snarl. She simply smiled.
“The hollow remembers,” she said, her voice carrying beyond the twisted branches. “And so do I.”
For while the Jackal believed he had played his final move, he had forgotten one thing—the ground beneath him was shifting, and the creatures of Igodomigodo were no longer content to be pawns in another beast’s game.
The battle was far from over.
