Kratoz was not just another lemming on the icy tundra, but a knowledge-obsessed rodent with an insatiable curiosity. He loved exploring and learning about the world around him, which was uncharacteristic of the typical cautious and group-oriented behaviour of his fellow lemmings.
His brethren were happy following the crowd, quite literally, often migrating en masse without a clear reason. But Kratoz was an anomaly. He questioned the unending migrations and preferred poking around nooks and crannies, collecting stories and tales of the lemming world.
Through his years of exploring, Kratoz accumulated knowledge that no lemming had even dreamed of. He knew of the humans who visited their lands, of the predators that lurked in darkness, and most importantly, he knew of an unspoken lemming secret - the myth of the lemmings ‘mass suicide.’
Kratoz knew that this was mere folklore, bred by human misconception. Lemmings, he knew, simply migrated when their population became too big, and due to their poor vision, sometimes, unfortunately, plunged off cliffs or into rivers, leading humans to believe they were purposefully jumping to their deaths.
Kratoz’s knowledge turned into a threat when the lemming elders got wind of it. They feared this exposure would shatter the silence and safety of their world. They imagined a situation where their migration pattern was disturbed, which could lead to the endangerment of their species. They were terrified of the unknown consequences of Kratoz’s revelations.
So one icy night, Kratoz was led away from the lemming settlement. His brethren pleaded ignorance, but the wise old Kratoz knew. His heart pounded, yet he held his head high, his short life filled with excitement and knowledge, rather than prolonged monotonous existence.
As the elders pushed Kratoz towards the perilous cliff, he looked back one last time. He didn’t see fear or hatred in the eyes of his lemming kin but confusion and helpless submission. He wasn’t being whacked because of animosity, but because of dread of the unknown.
His last thoughts before the cold wind carried him away were not of bitterness but hope. Hope that his tales and truths would someday surface, that his kin would no longer live in fear of myths and change but embrace knowledge and questioning as he once did.
That’s the story of Kratoz, the lemming that knew too much and got whacked. But remember, stories never truly end. They live on, whispered on icy winds and echoed in snowy caverns, waiting for the day they can be rekindled.
Kratoz was not just another lemming on the icy tundra, but a knowledge-obsessed rodent with an insatiable curiosity. He loved exploring and learning about the world around him, which was uncharacteristic of the typical cautious and group-oriented behaviour of his fellow lemmings.
His brethren were happy following the crowd, quite literally, often migrating en masse without a clear reason. But Kratoz was an anomaly. He questioned the unending migrations and preferred poking around nooks and crannies, collecting stories and tales of the lemming world.
Through his years of exploring, Kratoz accumulated knowledge that no lemming had even dreamed of. He knew of the humans who visited their lands, of the predators that lurked in darkness, and most importantly, he knew of an unspoken lemming secret - the myth of the lemmings ‘mass suicide.’
Kratoz knew that this was mere folklore, bred by human misconception. Lemmings, he knew, simply migrated when their population became too big, and due to their poor vision, sometimes, unfortunately, plunged off cliffs or into rivers, leading humans to believe they were purposefully jumping to their deaths.
Kratoz’s knowledge turned into a threat when the lemming elders got wind of it. They feared this exposure would shatter the silence and safety of their world. They imagined a situation where their migration pattern was disturbed, which could lead to the endangerment of their species. They were terrified of the unknown consequences of Kratoz’s revelations.
So one icy night, Kratoz was led away from the lemming settlement. His brethren pleaded ignorance, but the wise old Kratoz knew. His heart pounded, yet he held his head high, his short life filled with excitement and knowledge, rather than prolonged monotonous existence.
As the elders pushed Kratoz towards the perilous cliff, he looked back one last time. He didn’t see fear or hatred in the eyes of his lemming kin but confusion and helpless submission. He wasn’t being whacked because of animosity, but because of dread of the unknown.
His last thoughts before the cold wind carried him away were not of bitterness but hope. Hope that his tales and truths would someday surface, that his kin would no longer live in fear of myths and change but embrace knowledge and questioning as he once did.
That’s the story of Kratoz, the lemming that knew too much and got whacked. But remember, stories never truly end. They live on, whispered on icy winds and echoed in snowy caverns, waiting for the day they can be rekindled.
hmm… i need to practice it seems lol