The Rats Count Their Friends

A troop of rats lived beneath the forest roots. Their chief checked that every friend returned safely each evening. They shared seeds, explored together, and kept watch over the smaller members of their group.

Nearby, a wolf pretended that his front paws hurt. He balanced awkwardly and kept his mouth open. When the rats asked why, he claimed that he lived entirely on air and could not move.

The kind rats visited him morning and evening. They did not notice that, as they left, he quietly caught the last rat and locked it inside his rocky shelter. His helpless story hid a greedy plan.

At bedtime, the chief counted fewer friends than before. He asked where the missing rats had gone. Nobody knew, but the changes had begun after their visits to the supposedly helpless neighbor.

Next morning, the chief went last while the others walked ahead. He watched the wolf carefully from a safe angle. Just as he passed, the wolf sprang forward with paws that suddenly worked perfectly well.

The chief dodged behind a thick root and called a warning. The wolf stopped, exposed before the whole group. From his shelter came faint squeaks: their missing friends were alive and asking for help.

The rats worked together to open a side gap beneath the shelter’s loose door. One by one, the trapped friends slipped out. The wolf, surrounded by loud warning calls, retreated away from their burrows.

That evening, the chief counted again, and every friend answered. The group felt relieved. They talked about the difference between helping someone kindly and ignoring signs that a story might be false.

They still cared for neighbors who needed help, but now they visited together and checked how everyone returned. Their small routine made the forest safer without taking away the kindness they valued.

Under the roots, supper was shared once more among the complete troop. The chief smiled at the familiar squeaks. Paying attention to every friend had mattered more than accepting a stranger’s impressive story.