Cow falls into a pit full of lava

In the quiet village of Eldermere, nestled between rolling green hills and dense forests, life moved at a gentle pace. Farmers tended to their crops, children played in the meadows, and cows grazed lazily under the warm sun. Among these cows was Daisy, a plump, brown-and-white dairy cow known for her curious nature and tendency to wander where she shouldn’t.

One fateful afternoon, Daisy strayed farther than usual, lured by the scent of fresh grass near the edge of the Blackridge—a rocky, forbidden area where the ground was known to be unstable. The villagers often warned their children and livestock to stay away, for deep within the Blackridge was the infamous Fire Maw, a pit rumored to be filled with bubbling lava from long-extinct volcanic activity. Most dismissed it as an old wives’ tale, but the danger was real.

Daisy, oblivious to the peril, trotted along the uneven terrain, her hooves kicking up loose pebbles. The ground beneath her gave a faint tremble, but she paid no mind, too busy munching on a patch of unusually vibrant clover. Then—CRACK!

The earth split open beneath her.

With a startled moo, Daisy plummeted into the darkness. The fall was short but terrifying, ending with a splash—not into water, but into a thick, glowing orange substance that hissed and bubbled around her. Lava.

For a moment, Daisy simply stood there, stunned. The heat was immense, but strangely, she wasn’t burning alive. The lava was thick like molasses, and though it singed her hooves, it didn’t immediately consume her. Instead, it clung to her like sticky, burning mud.

Back in the village, Old Man Harris, the shepherd, had seen Daisy wander toward the Blackridge. When she didn’t return, he gathered a few villagers, and they set out to find her. As they neared the Fire Maw, they heard desperate, panicked moos echoing from below.

“Great heavens,” gasped Martha, the baker. “She’s fallen into the lava pit!”

The villagers peered over the edge and saw Daisy—now half-covered in cooling black crust, her legs still sinking slowly into the molten depths. She looked like a bizarre, half-melted statue, her eyes wide with bovine terror.

“We have to save her!” cried young Tommy, the blacksmith’s son.

“No one can survive lava!” argued Old Man Harris. “She’s done for.”

But Tommy wouldn’t accept that. He sprinted back to the village and returned with ropes, hooks, and a wooden cart. The others, though doubtful, helped fasten the ropes around a sturdy rock and lowered Tommy into the pit.

The heat was unbearable. Sweat poured down Tommy’s face as he inched closer to Daisy. The lava had cooled slightly around her, forming a brittle shell that cracked with every movement. Tommy looped a rope around Daisy’s middle and tied it tight.

“PULL!” he shouted.

The villagers heaved with all their might. Daisy let out a distressed moo as the hardened lava cracked away from her body. Inch by inch, she was dragged free, her legs coated in blackened rock. With one final tug, she was hoisted onto solid ground, trembling but alive.

The villagers erupted into cheers. Daisy, though singed and missing patches of fur, was miraculously unharmed beyond minor burns. The lava had been thick and slow-moving, allowing her to survive long enough to be rescued.

From that day on, Daisy became a legend in Eldermere. No longer just a wandering cow, she was Daisy the Lava Survivor, a living testament to the village’s determination (and sheer dumb luck). The Fire Maw was sealed off with sturdy fences, and Daisy, though still curious, never wandered near it again.

And whenever travelers passed through Eldermere, the villagers would proudly point to Daisy—now with a few permanent blackened spots on her hide—and say, “See that cow? She fell into a pit of lava… and lived to tell the tale.”