𝓗𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓪 𝓜𝓪𝓮́ 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽
A Mission in the Name of Mother Nature
The afternoon sun slanted across the tall grass, which barely stirred in the breeze. A young male gorilla sat alone on a small rise in the middle of his spacious enclosure. Around him, flowers grew—carefully planted and tended: lilies, grasses, ferns. Everything looked like the jungle. And yet, it was not the jungle.
He didn’t look toward the visitors beyond the barrier. Not toward the keepers. Not at the ropes or the rocks built for him. His brow was furrowed. Something stirred inside him—something he couldn’t name.
Not hunger. Not pain.
Something deeper.
An instinct that seemed to whisper: You are here—but you do not belong here.
Then, something moved among the blossoms. At first barely visible. Then clearer. Something upright. Too bright to be an insect. Too small to be a human.
The gorilla slowly closed his massive hand. Not harshly, but gently. When he opened it again, there sat a tiny figure—barefoot, bare-skinned, with delicate wings and eyes that seemed to pierce through everything—mischievous and wise all at once.
Hilda Maé.
She didn’t smile, but she didn’t look surprised either.
“You’re one of the silent guardians,” she said, almost whispering. “And you feel it, don’t you? That this isn’t quite real. Not wrong, but not fully right either.”
The gorilla gazed at her for a long time. No anger. But no peace either.
Hilda gently placed her small hand on his nose. Her voice grew firmer.
“You’re not where your ancestors lived. And you feel something’s missing. That’s not imagination—it’s memory without pictures. It’s in your bones. In your genes. In your breath.”
He didn’t move. But something flickered in his eyes—a shimmer, a spark.
“You’re not free. I know that. But you’re not forgotten either. The people here—not all, but many—don’t just see an animal. They see something they’ve lost: a connection. To roots. To the earth. To a time before all this noise.”
She paused. Not out of fear or uncertainty, but to let the silence settle.
“The jungle isn’t here,” she said quietly. “But you can stand for it. Not as an attraction. But as an ambassador. A living reminder of what’s at stake.”
The gorilla breathed deeply. Slowly. Heavily.
“If—and only if—you’re treated with dignity. If your family is protected. If people listen to you, not just look at you.”
She glanced at the humans along the edge. Children, parents, grandparents. Some laughed. Others stood silently, reading the signs about these magnificent beings in the wild.
“Sometimes,” Hilda said softly, “we have to make compromises to save something. No zoo replaces the rainforest. But sometimes a good compromise is better than doing nothing and always complaining. As long as we preserve knowledge and pass on respect, there is hope.”
She gently placed a flower in his hand.
“You’re part of that hope. Not because you’re here. But because you are seen—and because you awaken something that must not be lost.”
A gentle wind stirred through the trees of the enclosure.
Hilda Maé spread her wings—light as air, translucent, shimmering in the fading light of a long day.
The gorilla let her go.
No fear. No resistance.
Just a quiet understanding.
-Samara Blue/Kerstin Ellinghoven
Wings ©Sadriel/3DShards/
https://3dshards.com/store/sadriel-xv/
Made with DAZ Studio I Iray I No Postwork I Krefeld 14.06.2025
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