"The Fox and the Jackal" –

In a dry, thorny forest where the wind whistled through sunbaked bushes and the ground cracked beneath your feet, lived two creatures known for their cleverness—Rake, the fox, and Biju, the jackal.

Rake was sleek and graceful, with eyes that sparkled like sunlight on a river. He walked with pride, tail held high, and believed there was no creature in the forest smarter than him. Biju, on the other hand, was scruffy and lean, with a constant look of calculation in his eyes. He didn't seek attention like Raka did; instead, he preferred to let others underestimate him.

For a while, the two lived peacefully, each ruling different parts of the forest. Rake took the western end, where the berry bushes grew fat and birds sang sweet melodies, while Biju ruled the dry eastern plains, where scavenging was a skill and patience a virtue.

But peace never lasts long when two tricksters live so close.

One hot summer, food became scarce. The streams dried to a trickle, and the animals grew desperate. It was during this time that Rake ventured east, hoping to claim some of Biju's territory. “After all,” he thought, “What could that ragged jackal do to stop me?”

As Raka crossed into Bijju’s domain, he stumbled upon a large, rotting log covered in vines. Beneath it, he heard the faint scratching of claws. Curious, he crept closer—and saw Biju digging a shallow pit.

“Planning a new den, are you?” Rake called out.

Biju turned, his eyes gleaming. “Ah, Rake! What brings you to the dry lands? Lost your way?”

“I came to see if you needed help finding a decent meal,” Rake smirked. “I know things are hard for you out here.”

Biju grinned slyly. “Kind of you, old friend. But I have my own ways. In fact, I’ve discovered a hidden cache of eggs in the cliffs beyond the termite mound. Enough to last weeks.”

Rake's ears perked up. “Is that so?”

“Indeed,” Biju replied, brushing dirt from his paws. “But it's tricky to reach, and I wouldn’t trust just anyone with the secret path. It requires... well, let's just say a particular kind of intelligence.”

Rake narrowed his eyes. He knew this was bait, but his pride got the better of him. “I’m sure I’m up to the task.”

Biju led him through thorn bushes, under low branches, and finally to the base of a steep, rocky cliff. “Up there,” Biju said, pointing to a crevice. “But be careful. The ledge is narrow, and only one of us can climb at a time.”

Rake nodded and began the climb. The stones were loose, and the wind howled around him, but he was determined. Just as he reached the opening, he saw something gleaming—a small pile of eggs resting in the shadows. Triumph filled him.

That’s when the ledge gave way.

Rake tumbled down, landing hard on the rocks below. When the dust settled, he looked up to see Biju standing at the top, chuckling.

“I forgot to mention,” Biju called down, “that the eggs are just painted stones. You’re not the only one who can play tricks, Rake.”

Embarrassed and bruised, Rake limped away, plotting revenge.

Days later, Rake returned to his side of the forest, where he spread rumors about Biju. “He’s cursed,” he told the birds. “Whoever deals with him finds misfortune.” The tale spread like wildfire. Soon, animals avoided Biju. He found fewer scavenged scraps and more closed doors.

But Bijju, clever as ever, noticed a pattern. He traced the rumors back to Rake.

Instead of retaliating directly, he devised a plan.

One morning, Biju set up a feast in the middle of the forest—a rare sight in such harsh times. Roasted roots, plump berries, and even a bit of honeycomb. He made sure the scent carried far and wide.

Animals came in cautious groups, sniffing the air, drawn by hunger. Biju stood proudly. “This is a gift,” he announced. “To show that I hold no grudges.”

Eventually, Rake arrived too, tail twitching with suspicion. “Generous of you,” he said. “But what's the catch?”

“No catch,” Biju said. “Only truth. I’ve invited everyone to judge which of us is the greater trickster. You or me. Let them decide.”

Rake agreed, thinking it would be easy to win.

They took turns performing tricks—Rake imitated owl calls to scare a hawk; Biju used vines to fake a snake attack. Laughter echoed across the trees. In the end, the animals voted.

To Rake's shock, they chose Biju.

“He's clever, but fair,” said an old tortoise. “You, Rake, cause mischief for pride. He does it to survive.”

Rake's pride was shattered. In silence, he turned and slunk away into the brush, leaving Biju with the forest’s respect.

From that day on, Biju ruled both sides of the forest—not through fear, but through wit and wisdom. And while he still played the occasional trick, he used his cunning to keep peace and balance in the wild.