Bhola’s simple heart cracked. “He said that?”

Trusting the tiger’s words, Bhola trudged toward the banyan tree. Meanwhile, Sher Khan raced to Hero. “Hero!” he cried. “Run! Bhola has gone mad. He thinks you stole his berry cache. He is waiting to crush you at the banyan tree.” Hero’s instincts screamed trap . He knew Bhola would never attack without reason. But he also knew Sher Khan’s reputation. Instead of panicking, Hero acted.

Bhola would simply smile, offering Hero a paw full of berries. “You worry too much, friend. The forest is peaceful.” Peace, however, was a fragile lie. Across the river, in the rocky crags of the dark side of the forest, lived Sher Khan , a tiger with a missing eye and a grudge against the world. Old and unable to chase swift prey, Sher Khan had grown cunning. He realized he could not outrun Hero, and he could not overpower Bhola. So he decided to divide them.

Hero understood the plan. He could not fight the tiger, and he could not shout over Bhola’s rage. So he used his wit. Hero crept around the perimeter and imitated the call of a peacock—the forest’s alarm signal. Bhola looked up. Then Hero whispered from the bushes, “Bhola! Don’t turn around quickly. The tiger is behind you. He lied.”

The sound that followed was a sickening CRACK .

Their names told their stories. Bhola meant simpleton, and Bhalu meant bear. True to his name, Bhola was strong enough to uproot a tree but too trusting to see the malice in others. Hero , on the other hand, was not just a Hiran (deer); he was the forest’s unofficial guard, always alert, always ready to leap. Every morning, Bhola would sit by the berry bushes, eating slowly, humming a tuneless song. Hero would graze nearby, his ears rotating like radar dishes. While other animals mocked Bhola for his slowness, Hero respected him. “Strength without cunning is a shield,” Hero once said, “and speed without strength is a sword. But together, we are an army.”

Bhola, trusting his friend’s voice without hesitation, dropped his massive body straight down.

One afternoon, Sher Khan limped into the clearing. He put on a sorrowful face. “Bhola, my friend,” he wheezed. “Your companion, Hero, has been spreading rumors that you are a fool. He says your strength is useless because you lack brains.”