It was a cool autumn afternoon. The buck plunged deep into the falling leaves as if in gold, rustling over the ground. He was tall and proud, his antlers reaching the sun, and his eyes listened to its brightness on their way. He was powerful and fast, said many times to outrun the quicker predators lurking and roaming. But deep in the dark, a cunning wolf set his eye on him.
It had been days when the wolf began to follow the buck, as if he were simply attached to observing his movements in general. He waited for the precise moment to strike the buck. The wolf knew that the buck's strength and speed have no match, but he had something else: patience and a sharp mind.
One day, with the buck seeking fresher grass to munch on in the further reaches of the woods, the wolf crept closer. But instead of pouncing, he started howling down, yelling out to the forest, causing the buck to frown in unease. The wind seems to carry the howls of several wolves, but there was only the one hidden in the shadows. With every howl, the buck grew uneasy. He knew danger was present, but where?.
Frightened, the buck raced through the woods, zigzagging between trees and leaping over streams. The wolf had prepared for this, however. He moved stealthily, keeping himself to the periphery of vision, but allowing the buck to tire out. The once-strong buck slacked into exhaustion from sheer fatigue, his legs giving out under him.
As the sun dipped below the hills, the wolf emerged from shadows. The buck, too tired to run, stood still. "Why do you run so fast, only to end up slower?" the wolf asked, his voice smooth and steady.
"I ran because I was afraid of your pack," the buck gasped, out of breath.
The wolf grinned, his teeth sharp. "But I am alone. It was your fear that made you run, not the danger. You exhausted yourself, and now, here we are."
Under the last leap of the wolf to the buck, the forest grew still in the twilight.
The moral of the tale: Fear and speed can sometimes carry one to the very danger he wishes to avoid.