Thankfully - Chewed Up and Spat Back Out!

When Zebra Grew Wings Long ago, on the vast savanna where the grass whispered secrets to the wind, there lived a young zebra named. She was no ordinary zebra. While the rest of the herd grazed in comfortable patterns, blending into the safety of black-and-white stripes, she carried stripes that seemed deeper, sharper, as though etched by invisible claws. The other zebras called her strange. Doctors among the animals (wise old elephants and sharp-eyed meerkats) shook their heads. “When you hear hoofbeats,” they muttered, “think horses, not zebras.” Yet her pain was real: storms raged inside her skull, rivers leaked where they should not, and invisible predators gnawed at her strength day after day. She was a zebra in a world that only believed in horses. One dry season, the herd moved on without her. Too weak to keep pace, she collapsed beneath an ancient  tree. The predators of the plain circled closer; doubt, despair, and the great lion named Silence. They tore at her, chewed her ...