Gorilla Attack
The forest was unusually quiet that morning. Birds had stopped calling, and even the rustle of leaves seemed to hold its breath. Deep in the jungle, a silverback gorilla stood watch over his troop. His massive frame was tense, eyes fixed on a group of intruders who had ventured too close. The humans thought they were safe, moving carelessly while snapping photos, unaware of the invisible boundary they had crossed.
The gorilla’s warning began with a deep rumble in his chest. He beat his broad chest with thunderous force, the sound echoing through the trees like distant drums. The message was clear: stay away. But the intruders lingered, laughing nervously, misjudging the power and seriousness of the display.
Suddenly, with terrifying speed, the silverback charged. Leaves flew, branches snapped, and the ground shook beneath his weight. His roar tore through the air, freezing everyone in place. The group stumbled backward, fear now replacing curiosity. Just as quickly as he advanced, the gorilla halted, towering only feet away, his breath heavy with fury.
It was not a reckless strike but a fierce warning. Realizing their mistake, the humans retreated. The silverback watched until they disappeared, then returned to his troop. His family was safe, and the forest grew quiet once more.
