IOke Media

The wolf looked at the dog with reproach and asked,
“Cousin… tell me, what do you think of humans?”
The dog lowered his eyes. His voice was quiet, weary:
“When they want to insult someone… they call them a dog.”
The wolf raised an eyebrow, surprised.
“Have you hurt their children?” he asked.
“No.”
“Have you betrayed them?”
“Never.”
“Have you kept watch over them, kept them safe from me night after night?”
“Yes, always.”
The wolf smiled—bitter and small.
“Then tell me this: what do they call the people they admire? The brave, the clever, the independent?”
The dog sighed.
“They call them… wolves.”
Silence fell. At last the wolf shook his head with a hollow chuckle.
“Didn’t we tell you from the start to join us? I raided their flocks, I frightened their children, I betrayed them again and again… And still — when they want to praise someone, they compare him to me.”
He leaned closer and whispered:
“Remember this, cousin: people worship their tormentor… and shame the one who stayed true to them.”

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