The lion was asleep under a tree. Golden grass, warm afternoon, big paws crossed in front of him. Lions sleep a ridiculous amount. They can afford to.
The mouse was not sleeping. Mice can't really afford to sleep. She was running through the grass looking for seeds, not paying attention, and ran straight up his paw before she knew what she was standing on.
He opened one eye and flipped his paw. She was pinned. Claws everywhere.
"Please. I didn't see you. Let me go and I'll pay you back someday."
He looked at her. Mouse, promising to repay a lion. Ridiculous.
He lifted his paw. She ran. He went back to sleep. Forgot about it.
A couple weeks later, hunters came with a net. Heavy rope, weighted edges. They laid it by the watering hole.
The lion walked right into it.
He roared. Clawed at it. It held. After a while he just lay there, breathing hard.
The mouse heard the roar from far away. She came. Took a while — open ground, hawks circling. But she came.
"Hey."
He looked at her. Took a second.
"Oh. You."
She climbed on the rope and started chewing. One strand at a time. Her jaw ached and she had to stop and rest and go again.
The last strand broke. The net fell open.
He stood up. Looked down at her. She was panting, covered in rope fiber.
"You said you would," he said.
"I said I would."
They didn't become best friends or anything. He was a lion and she was a mouse. But sometimes on quiet afternoons he'd think about her. How small she was, and how that didn't end up mattering.
And she'd remember the weight of his paw. How he decided to lift it when he didn't have to.
Be decent to people even when there's nothing in it for you. That's it. That's the whole thing.
Goodnight.