1. The Donkey Outsmarts the Wolf 2. Clever Hooves, Foolish Hungry Wolf 3. Barro’s Trick Saves His Life 4. Kick of the Clever Donkey

In a quiet, dry valley between two dusty hills, where thistles grew wild and the breeze whispered through the long grass, a donkey named Barro roamed freely. Barro was not a young donkey—his coat had faded to a dusty gray, and his hooves were worn—but his mind was sharp, and he had learned to live cautiously in a land where predators roamed.

Not far from this valley, in the shadow of a thick pine forest, there lived a wolf named Kael. He was cunning, strong, and feared by the creatures of the plains. But lately, Kael had grown lean and desperate. Prey had become scarce, and his pack had long scattered, leaving him to fend for himself.

One late afternoon, as the golden sun dipped low in the west, Kael wandered into the valley, his ribs showing through his coarse fur, and his yellow eyes scanning for movement. That’s when he spotted Barro, grazing peacefully near a patch of wildflowers. Kael crouched low behind a boulder, licking his lips.

“Dinner,” he whispered to himself.

But Barro, though appearing calm, had sensed something. His ears twitched, and his eyes darted toward the forest's edge. He saw a faint glimmer of movement—a low shape creeping toward him. He immediately guessed it was a wolf.

Instead of running, Barro did something unusual. He limped.

He raised one hoof and began to hobble slightly, letting out small brays of discomfort. Kael, seeing this, slowed his approach. A limping donkey was an easy meal, but he was curious.

Barro saw Kael step into the open, his eyes gleaming.

“Well now,” said Kael, his voice smooth like oil, “what misfortune brings a fine beast like you to limp so helplessly?”

Barro blinked and replied in a hoarse voice, “A thorn. I stepped on a thorn this morning. It’s lodged deep in my hoof. I’ve been struggling to move ever since.”

Kael tilted his head. “How unfortunate. But you see, my friend, I am very hungry. It would be merciful to end your pain now.”

Barro, standing his ground, said, “Before you eat me, noble wolf, do me a small favor. Pull the thorn out, so it does not choke you. What use is a meal if it ends your life?”

Kael narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “You care about my safety?”

“I care not for you,” Barro said frankly, “but for the laws of nature. If I am to die, let it be clean. The thorn is long and sharp—it may pierce your throat.”

Kael growled softly. His stomach ached, and the idea of a clean meal—thorn-free—appealed to him. He approached slowly, circling around the donkey, eyeing the raised hoof. Indeed, there seemed to be something dark lodged in it.

With a mixture of arrogance and hunger-clouded judgment, Kael leaned in. “Very well. I shall do you this final courtesy.”

Barro braced himself.

As Kael brought his snout close to the hoof, sniffing and preparing to grip the thorn with his teeth, Barro used every ounce of strength in his body to lift his other hind leg—and kicked with tremendous force.

The hoof struck Kael square in the jaw, sending him tumbling backward with a yelp of pain. He crashed into a bush, dazed and bloodied.

Barro didn’t wait. He bolted down the valley, faster than he had in years, his limp suddenly gone. Dust flew behind him as he vanished into the low hills.

Kael lay groaning, one tooth missing and his jaw throbbing. He cursed himself for falling for such an old trick.

Days later, Kael still bore the bruise, and animals whispered of the clever donkey who outwitted the great wolf.

Barro returned to his grazing spot only when he was sure Kael had gone. From that day onward, he was more respected by the other creatures in the valley, and his tale was passed from one meadow to another.