Oh God… Luna stood frozen on the sun-warmed rock, her amber eyes fixed on the tiny newborn lynx below. The little one, barely days old, had been exploring clumsily, his paws too small and unsteady to grip the rough stone. One wrong step, and he slipped—tumbling down the side with a soft thud. A sharp cry pierced the quiet air, high and desperate, as he struggled to right himself.
The baby’s small body trembled, his tiny claws scraping at the dirt. His cries grew louder, echoing across the rocky clearing, but Luna did not move. Her tail flicked once, her head tilted, and she simply watched. Her stillness was not from ignorance, but from something far colder—indifference.
Each time the baby tried to stand, his legs wobbled before collapsing under him. He turned his head toward Luna, his wide eyes pleading for comfort, for rescue. The distance between them was only a few strides, yet it felt like an unbridgeable chasm. She licked her paw slowly, as if the heart-wrenching sound of his cries were nothing more than the rustle of wind in the leaves.
The world around them seemed to hold its breath. Even the birds in the trees fell silent, their watchful eyes mirroring the same question—why wouldn’t she help? The baby’s voice cracked with exhaustion, his small chest heaving as the strength to cry began to fade.
Finally, the little lynx curled into himself on the cold ground, eyes half-closing in defeat. The last sound was a soft, broken whimper. And still, Luna stood on the rock, unmoving, her gaze fixed far beyond him, as if the tiny life at her feet was not hers to save.
It was a moment too painful to watch—yet impossible to forget.
