RAW KINGDOM ENTERTAINMENT

                       Ungrateful Neighbors

 Word of the snake’s passing spread swiftly through the fields, carried on the wings of restless magpies. Their raucous chatter wove through the air, tumbling over hedgerows and winding along the riverbanks, until it reached the farthest corners of the glade. From that distant stillness came a sudden stir—a kestrel, sharp-eyed and silent as a shadow, descended without warning. With talons outstretched, he lifted the long, scarlet-streaked body of Viciousella, and bore it away into the brightening sky, leaving behind only the rustle of grass and the faint echo of wings.
 And so the hedgehog, small though stout of heart, turned to his companion beneath the dimming light of eventide and spoke hopefully:

“I hope that from now on we will be at peace,” said the Yoshi to his companion. “No one will challenge our right to live in the slog.”
 Yet barely had two days slipped quietly by when, and a flock of partridges, brown-feathered and brisk, descended upon the tall grasses and made their camp as though it were theirs by ancient claim.

 Then Yoshi, being among the hastier and more spirited folk of the slog, strode forth to reason with them. But the birds only laughed—a bright, trilling laughter that stung more sharply than any thorn—and they ruffled their wings in mild amusement.

“The slog does not belong to anyone,” declared the eldest of the partridges, his voice like the rustle of dry reeds — “There is room for all of us. We will not hinder you in any way, nor shall we meddle in your doings.”

“It's not a question of who owns the slog,“ objected Yoshi.

“The question is that wherever you settle, you bring some danger. I don't want to deal with hunting dogs, nor with that robber, the fox, nor with various outlaws, like the hawks. There are so many of you, and the place way is too small. For your own good, I advise you to leave the slog and get away as soon as possible“.

 But the partridges had no intention to abandon their snug little nook, not while the sun was warm upon the heather and the briars hung heavy with berries. And on the next day there came also the hare, soft-footed and mild-eyed, who made himself quite at home beneath a thorn-tree whose crooked arms spread a pleasant shade about him.
 The partridges, being sociable folk, welcomed him at once with many a courteous cluck and bob of the head. But Yoshi the hedgehog did not like him at all, and he set himself to all manner of tricks and scurrying mischief to drive the newcomer away. Yet for all his cunning no plan availed, and the hare, untroubled and rather drowsy in the cool shade, remained.
 At last Yoshi decided upon a bolder ruse. He waited until the hare slept, long ears fallen like pale leaves upon his shoulders. Then suddenly, with all the speed that his prickled little form could muster, he darted past the slumberer so swiftly that the grass trembled behind him.
 Up sprang the hare as if struck by an unseen arrow, limbs quivering and ears turning this way and that like twin watchtowers searching for danger.

“What happened, good fellow?” he asked, patting himself down anxiously while his ears swept the air in widening circles.

“Do you not hear?” whispered Yoshi, his voice grave with feigned dread.“Hunters are coming.”

“Hunters? Where are they?”cried the hare, his long ears quivering as if they would catch some whisper in the wind.

“I have no time to lead your blind eyes,” answered the hedgehog sharply.

 And with that he turned about, his small prickled form bristling in indignation, and trotted away beneath the briar-shadow as though all the matter were finished.
 Now the hedgehog, for all his prickliness, was a creature of simple mind, and he believed that the hare—fast of foot yet timid of heart—would take to his heels and vanish among the tall grasses.
 For the hare, though startled, was not one to be cowed so easily. Swift he slipped back beneath the thorny archway. There he crouched low, pressing himself so close into the tangled roots, that he became a shadow. And in that stillness, with only the soft murmur of leaves above, he became as unseen as a whisper.

“He will be snared by his own witless ruse,” he muttered, watching the dim edge of the clearing.“Rather than slip silently into the deep woods, he will linger here like a stump in the open, and the hounds will nose him out soon enough, baying to their masters.”

 And so the days passed. Creatures of prey—wolf, hawk, and other, darker shapes—began to drift in, drawn by the swelling abundance of game that haunted the glades. It seemed as though the whole slog had grown restless, waiting for something unseen to break its silence.
 High above the quiet fields a falcon wheeled, biding its time until the shy partridges dared step into the open. And the hawks, bold and hungry, swept so low that the brush of their wings whispered against the tall grass. Through the dusk wandered the white-tailed deer, soft-footed and watchful, while a weasel—quick as a dart and cruel by nature—sprang upon a hapless hare in full daylight, leaving a grievous wound upon his neck. In but two days’ turn, three partridges were gone as if the shadows themselves had swallowed them.
 Yet Yoshi and Thumbelina did not abandon their troubled neighbors, they tried with all their might to help their neighbors in trouble. As soon as they heard the voice of the old partridge, they would run and chase away the attacker.
 Without the timely aid of Yoshi, the hare would surely have met his end; yet instead of offering thanks, he carried on with the same proud tilt of head, as though no life-debt lay upon him.

“Scatter across the field, I beg you,” Yoshi urged his neighbors day after day. “The longer you linger here in this narrow patch, the more the prowling beasts will come upon you. I am weary of saying it!”

“Then why do you not wander off with your precious walking bowl?” the partridges replied, their feathers ruffled with offense.

The hare called out to him, bristling with pride.

“You have already shown us your merits to us,” the rabbit said.“I declare to you that I do not need your help. I have the strength to deal with my enemies myself.”

But Yoshi, swift in temper as in foot, cried back,
“Foolish creature! Do you not see that these hawks and falcons circle above not for my sake, but for yours?”

“That is far from certain,” murmured the partridges, ruffling their feathers in doubt.

 When no words could bend their stubborn minds, the hedgehog’s patience failed. Anger flared in him, and he drove them from the nest with fierce chidings. And so it was that the hawks descended like shadows loosed from the clouds, striking hard upon the bewildered birds.

“Stop! Leave them be!” pleaded Thumbelina, whose heart was ever soft toward the helpless.“Do you not see you cast them into sure death?”

Yoshi only shook his head, weary and grim.
“There is no peace left for us here,” he said.“We must seek another place beneath the sun.”

 After several days had passed, the two companions decided to leave the village and make their way to an untilled stretch of earth, where tall, stubborn weeds rose like a dark host. Yet on the very morning of their departure, an event most strange befell them—an occurrence that turned the course of their days and laid upon them a burden of new suffering, heavier and more dreadful than any they had yet endured.