Beneath the soft, golden light of dawn, the grasslands stretched wide like a golden ocean. Nestled amidst
the tall grasses, hidden from prying eyes, a female hyena lay still—her ears
twitching at every whisper of the wind. She was a
fierce matriarch, a skilled hunter, and above all, a vigilant mother. Her den,
dug deep into the hillside, cradling two pups. As she
suckled them, a distant temple bell rang in the distance. This
centuries-old temple crowning the landscape, was renowned for its architectural
beauty and revered as a sanctuary of mothers due to the presence of female
deities that adorned every stone and wall.
Villagers
believed the goddesses watched over every beast and blade of grass, their stone
eyes ever vigilant. One
morning, however, something felt different. As the pups played and the mother hyena
groomed herself, she caught the scent of something unfamiliar. A smoky odour
was accompanied by the sounds of vehicles. Her muscles coiled, and her snout
lifted; a low growl rumbled in her throat.
Humans. They were
approaching, not like the quiet shepherds she had once observed from a
distance, but as people intending to bring change to her land. They spoke
loudly of a road to be built across the grassland that would cut through her
hunting trails, her den, and disrupt the rhythms of the grass and its
inhabitants. She had to take action. She ushered her cubs into the den and
silently emerged into the sunlit grass, moving low, powerful, almost spectral.
From a distance, she watched the men as they pointed and marked the road trail.
One man
looked in her direction and froze. She stood statue-still, reminiscent of a
deity from the temple—not in the guise of a predator but as a mother, a
guardian. The man
pointed her out to the others, his heart pounding. But then he remembered tales
his grandmother had told him—of the goddesses sending wild protectors in female
form to defend sacred lands. He raised
a hand. “Stop,” he said to the surveyors. “We shouldn’t go any farther.”
“Why?” one
of them asked. “That’s
her land,” he replied. “The goddesses are watching.” The temple
bells chimed in the wind. The surveyors got back into their vehicle. A meeting
needed to be called, and alternatives explored. The hyena
stood her ground until the men retreated. Only then did she melt back into the
tall grass, becoming invisible again.
High
above, the goddesses watched silently from their stone thrones. In that
quiet hour, the earth itself seemed to exhale—saved, if only for a little
while, by a mother’s love and a sacred memory etched in stone.
Image: AI generated
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