The warm afternoon sun spilled across the forest clearing, casting playful shadows over the soft grass. Little Lynx toddled uncertainly, his tiny paws barely steady as he explored the edge of the path. His big brother, Luno, sat nearby, nibbling on a fallen fruit, eyes wandering elsewhere.
“Luno, help me!” Lynx squeaked suddenly. His small voice carried a hint of panic as his paw got caught in a tangle of vines. He struggled, but the vines only tightened around his leg. Instead of leaping to his brother’s side, Luno glanced over lazily, his tail flicking with half interest.
“You’ll be fine,” Luno muttered, turning back to his fruit. To him, it didn’t seem like a big deal — Lynx was always calling for help over little things. But this time, Lynx’s eyes were wide with fear. A rustle in the bushes signaled something moving nearby, something bigger than them both.
Lynx whimpered, trying to free himself, while the sound drew closer. Finally, Luno realized this wasn’t just playtime trouble. His heart pounded. Dropping his fruit, he rushed over, using his teeth and paws to tear away the vines.
“You’re so careless,” Lynx sniffled when he was finally free, his fur ruffled and dirty. Luno looked guilty, helping his little brother back to the safety of the den. “I didn’t mean to be,” he said softly, “I just… didn’t think it was serious.”
From that day, Luno learned that even small cries might hide big dangers. Lynx, though still shaky, smiled — because deep down, he knew his brother would never ignore him again. And Luno, determined now, promised himself he’d always watch over Lynx.
