Beneath the old tree, the world felt too big.
The grass was cool, the earth smelled safe, and the fawn curled its tiny body tight—just like its mother had taught it. Stay still. Stay quiet. I will come back.
Every sound felt louder when you were that small.
The wind. The birds. The heavy steps that came too close.
A dog appeared—black and white, full of life, eyes wide with curiosity. The fawn’s heart raced, but its legs would not move. Fear whispered, Run, but instinct whispered louder, Trust.
The dog leaned in, then stopped.
No bark. No lunge. Just stillness.
Something unseen passed between them—an understanding older than fear.
The fawn breathed.
The dog waited.
Moments stretched like hours until a gentle pull guided the dog away. Silence returned. Safety returned.
And when the sun softened and the world felt kind again, the mother came back—warm, steady, real. She touched her nose to her baby, as if to say, You were brave. I never left.
Under the tree, where fear once lived, only love remained. 💔🌱🦌