18/09/2025
The Forest of Silent Roars 🌲🐅🌑
The forest was alive, yet terribly silent. Moonlight filtered through twisted branches, casting long shadows that moved like ghosts. Deep inside, the kingdom of tigers ruled — dozens of glowing eyes watched from the darkness, their low growls echoing like drums of doom.
A herd of deer froze near the river, their ears twitching. Suddenly, a scream pierced the night — a monkey, dragged into the thickets, its cries swallowed by snarls. The jungle floor shook as wild boars scattered, crashing through bushes, but one by one they vanished into the shadows.
Above, an owl circled, hooting nervously, as if warning every living soul. But warnings meant nothing. The tigers were restless, hunting not for hunger, but for dominance. Even the wolves, known for their howls, hid in caves, too terrified to raise their voices.
By dawn, the forest smelled of fear and blood. The river carried torn feathers, broken antlers, and silence thicker than fog. No birds sang. No animals moved. Only the tigers remained, pacing their land, their roars rolling like thunder — a reminder that this forest belonged to them, and trespassers would never leave alive.
