We used to roll down the hill and cuddle on the grass, when I was a little girl and you were also just a cub. We’d been chasing deers through the forest daily until the giant machines arrived.
Those thundering monsters cut down the trees and captured the animals. All we can do is watching the blood-red fire raging, since we were yet small and weak. When the machines march, the forest and our hearts are bleeding. We are hurt, but will never surrender. They may have smashed us, but could never take our forest. One day your claws will be full-grown, and I will be armed. That’s when the harm be stopped.