At dawn, a flock of doves spotted rice scattered in a field by the river and swooped down — and WHAP, a hunter's net! But the old dove-chief called out, “Don't be scared, brothers! All together now — one… two… three — FLY!” A hundred wings beat as one, and guess what happened? The whole flock rose into the sky — net and all!
The flock came down under the banyan tree, right at the door of Hiru the mouse's burrow — while Kalu the crow watched wide-eyed from a branch. “Hiru, friend — help us!” called the dove-chief. Out came Hiru and got to work — nibble-nibble, nibble-nibble — one thread, two threads, three threads — till the very last dove was free! And Kalu sighed: oh, if only I had a friend like that.
“Hiru, my friend — I want to be YOUR friend!” called Kalu. Hiru backed away, tail tucked tight. “Oh no you don't — crows eat mice!” But Kalu came every day, told him stories, shared his food — and little by little, Hiru's fear melted away. Then one day Hiru climbed onto Kalu's back and whoosh — off they flew to the quiet pond, to Monthor the tortoise.
One golden evening, Chanchol the deer came bounding in — heart pounding, legs shaking. “A hunter was chasing me…” he panted. “I've lost my way!” Monthor stretched out his old neck and smiled. “You're safe now, friend. Stay with us — from today, we're four.” And from then on, every evening by the pond, the four friends sat in a ring — full of stories and laughter.
One evening, Chanchol didn't come. They searched and searched, and by the kash reeds they found him — caught in a hunter's snare! “Hiru, brother — help!” he cried. Hiru came riding on Kalu's back — nibble-nibble, nibble-nibble — the rope snapped and Chanchol was free — but just then, in the distance… thud… thud… thud… the hunter's footsteps!
Everyone fled — only Monthor couldn't. On his slow little legs, he too had come to save his friend. The hunter found only slow, gentle Monthor — dropped him into a sack, and walked away. From behind the bushes, three friends watched with hearts like stone as the sack grew smaller, and smaller… and disappeared.
Hiru whispered, “Listen — Chanchol, you play dead on the path. Kalu, you pretend to peck!” And so it went. The hunter saw the “dead” deer, dropped his sack and ran for it — and THEN: Chanchol sprang up and was gone like the wind, nibble-nibble Hiru cut the sack open, and Monthor slipped — plop! — into the pond. The hunter turned around: an empty sack, an empty path.
That night the moon floated in the pond and fireflies twinkled all around — and there sat the four friends in their ring, not one of them lost. “Alone,” said Monthor slowly, “not one of us would've made it today.” Hiru laughed and leaned against Kalu's wing. “And together? Together, there's no trap in the world that can hold us!”