The Lion's Unfair Share

In the wide grasslands at the heart of the savanna, where the acacia trees stood like gold-leafed umbrellas and the afternoon heat shimmered above the plains, the Lion called together a hunting party.

"Today," said the Lion, stretching his great tawny body in the sun, "we shall hunt together. Four of us. And what we find, we shall share."

The Fox, the Jackal, and the Wolf exchanged glances. Hunting alongside the Lion was not entirely comfortable — he was larger and louder than all of them combined — but his presence meant they might catch something they couldn't manage alone. So they agreed.

They spread out across the grass and worked well as a team. The Fox was quick and cunning, cutting off the escape routes. The Jackal was patient, waiting in exactly the right place. The Wolf was steady and strong. And the Lion, of course, was powerful. Together they cornered a fine large stag, and when the day's work was done, they gathered around their catch in the long evening shadows.

"Divide it into four equal parts," said the Lion.

The other three set to work, and when they were finished, four fair portions lay on the grass.

The Lion stepped forward and placed his great paw on the first portion.

"This one," he said pleasantly, "is mine. As King of the Savanna, it is my right."

He moved his paw to the second portion.

"And this one belongs to me as well — as the strongest member of our group and the judge of any disputes."

The Fox blinked. The Jackal's tail went very still.

The Lion's paw moved to the third portion.

"This one," he continued, in the same pleasant voice, "is my share for the work I put in during the hunt."

The Wolf looked at the Fox. The Fox looked at the Jackal.

Now only one portion remained on the grass.

The Lion fixed each of them in turn with his calm amber gaze.

"As for the last portion — I'd be very interested to know which of you would like to step forward and claim it."

Not one of them moved.

After a long, still moment, the Fox turned quietly and walked away across the grass. The Wolf followed. The Jackal went last, without looking back.

No one said anything.

Later, as the three of them settled down under a distant tree, the Fox spoke.

"We did every bit as much work as he did," she said.

"More, in some ways," said the Wolf.

"Yes," said the Jackal. "But saying so wouldn't have changed anything."

The Fox looked out across the darkening plains. "Then we remember it," she said quietly. "And the next time someone asks us to share the work — we make sure we also agree on how we'll share the reward. Beforehand. When everyone is equal."

The Wolf nodded slowly.

"That," said the Jackal, "is wisdom."

The three of them watched the stars appear one by one above the savanna, and they talked until the fire went low and the night grew soft around them.