The Brave Friend

The Brave Friend

BY: Ubaid.

The sun had already set, and darkness had slowly wrapped the village in its arms. Silence began to fill every corner of the narrow dirt road that led toward the forest. People passing by whispered to each other, “The headman Keshan Lal’s goat is as good as gone. A tiger will eat it tonight—or maybe a wolf.”

I was that goat. Bound by a rope to a tree trunk at the edge of the forest, I stood trembling in fear. The chirping of crickets and the rustling of dry leaves felt like whispers of danger. Every sound made my heart pound faster.

As the night deepened, the shadows grew darker, and the moon rose high above, casting long, eerie shapes on the ground. I could almost hear my own heartbeat. My mind drifted home. I missed my mother, who always called me her dearest one. I thought of my little sister, Chhoti, and how we used to play together in the field when the sky blushed with sunset colors.

Now here I was—alone, tied to a tree, in the middle of the wild forest. “Oh, what will happen to me now?” I thought, as the wind howled softly through the trees. Somewhere far away, an owl hooted. Then came another sound—a deep growl that made my knees tremble.

I wanted to cry, to scream for help, but then another thought struck me: What if the tiger hears me? My voice might lead him straight to me. So I stayed silent, my tears soaking into the dry earth beneath me.

Just then, I saw something move in the shadows. My breath caught in my throat. A dark shape began to creep closer. My mind screamed—It’s the tiger!—but I couldn’t even move. My legs felt frozen. The shape came nearer and nearer, until suddenly it stopped. My eyes widened—it wasn’t a tiger. It was a rabbit!

The little creature twitched its nose and stared at me curiously. Perhaps it wondered why a goat was tied up in the middle of the forest. But the moment it saw the rope around my neck, it got frightened and dashed away into the bushes.

For a long time, I stood still. The forest around me seemed endless and full of secrets. The night grew colder and darker. Every rustle of the leaves, every whisper of the wind sounded like approaching footsteps. I kept thinking, Now the tiger is coming... now he’ll pounce...

Hours passed like centuries. Then, I heard it—a soft sound of footsteps, slow and steady, coming closer from behind. My heart almost stopped. This is it, I thought. I’m done for.

I shut my eyes tight, trembling from head to hoof. The footsteps stopped right beside me. Then I felt something—someone’s hand touching my neck. My whole body froze. This is the end, I thought. The tiger has caught me!

But then, something strange happened. The hand felt… gentle. Warm. Soft—just like the little hands of my friend, Munna.

I opened my eyes slightly, and there he was—Munna himself! My dear friend. His face glowed faintly in the moonlight. Without a word, he leaned forward and began untying the rope around my neck. When the knot came loose, he whispered in my ear, “Go! Run home quickly, before anyone sees you.”

I didn’t even look back. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me—through the forest, across the fields, all the way toward the faint light of our village.

When I finally reached home, I heard my mother calling out my name, her voice full of worry. “Where is my goat? Where is she?”

The moment she saw me, her eyes filled with tears of relief. My little sister Chhoti squealed with joy, jumping up and down. I was safe—thanks to Munna. That night, I realized how deeply he cared for me. He wasn’t just a friend—he was a true companion who had risked his own safety to save my life.

The next morning, the whole village woke up to a surprising sight. People gathered at the edge of the forest, murmuring excitedly. The tiger that had been haunting the area for weeks was caught!

As it turned out, the tiger had come to the same spot during the night. He had tried to drink from a bucket of water left near the tree—and got trapped in the hunter’s net instead. The villagers quickly called the forest guards, who captured the tiger and sent him to the city zoo.

When Munna heard the news, he just smiled quietly. He never took credit for saving me, though everyone knew it was because of his courage that both I survived and the tiger was caught.

From that day on, Munna and I became inseparable. He would visit me every morning, feed me my favorite grass, and pat my head affectionately. I would wag my little tail and nuzzle his arm in return.

Sometimes I still remember that terrifying night—the silence, the fear, the loneliness—but above all, I remember the warmth of Munna’s gentle hands and the bravery hidden in his small heart.

I learned something precious that night:
True friendship doesn’t need grand words or promises—it shows itself when one heart risks everything for another.

And that’s how a young boy’s love saved a helpless goat, and turned a night of fear into a story of courage and friendship that our village still tells under the same moonlit sky.