There was a human cub in the wildwood. Lost. Crying for its mammy. The rabbits huddled in shocked bunches, the rodents laughed their sharp-toothed laughter, and the snakes and lizards decided it was none of their business.
The hiccuping cries awoke Old Brock, who quickly found the sobbing small one. Not speaking human, he leaned gently against the mancub and it grabbed at his fur for security.
Thus attached, Brock gently tugged the cub to where he could hear the footsteps of its dam. He left it in her path and ambled home, shaking his stripy head and smiling.
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