Golden Cloud Of The King

In the heart of the great, golden savanna lived Leo, a lion with a mane so magnificent it looked like a crown made of sunshine. Everyone in the grasslands knew Leo was the King, and they all kept a very respectful—and very quiet—distance.

Everyone, that is, except for Milo.

Milo was a small monkey with a big curiosity. While the other monkeys were busy peeling bananas or practicing their swings, Milo spent his days staring at Leo from the safety of a tall acacia tree.

"Look at it," Milo whispered to himself. "It looks like the softest rug in the world. I bet it feels like a warm hug."

The Great Tip-Toe

One afternoon, the sun was high and heavy, making everything in the savanna feel sleepy. Leo let out a giant yawn—YAAAAWN!—and curled up in the shade of a flat-topped tree. Soon, his deep, rumbly snores were shaking the grass.

Zzzzz-harrrr... Zzzzz-harrrr...

Milo saw his chance. He slid down his tree, his heart thumping like a little drum. He reached the tall grass. He didn't swing. He didn't chatter. He tip-toed.

Finally, he was standing right behind the King of the Jungle. Trembling just a little bit, Milo reached out one tiny, hairy finger. Touch.

Milo’s eyes went wide. It wasn't just soft; it was like touching a cloud. "Wow," he breathed. "It’s like silk!"

The Big Surprise

Suddenly, the snoring stopped. The savanna went silent. Leo’s giant yellow eye popped open. He turned his heavy head and looked right at the tiny monkey who was still tangled in his hair.

"ROAR!"

Leo let out a startled growl. "Who dares to disturb the King’s nap?"

Milo froze. He was terrified, but he didn't run. He looked up at Leo with his big, honest eyes and squeaked, "I’m sorry, Mr. Leo! I just... you have the most beautiful mane in the world. I’ve spent my whole life wondering if it was soft. And it is! It’s the softest thing I’ve ever felt."

A New Kind of King

Leo stopped growling. He blinked. Usually, animals ran away screaming when he woke up. Nobody had ever told him his hair was "beautiful" or stayed close enough to tell him he was soft. The anger in Leo’s chest melted away.

"You stayed," Leo whispered. "Just to tell me that?"

"I wanted to be your friend," Milo said, giving the mane one last, gentle pat. "If that's okay?"

Leo let out a sound that wasn't a roar at all—it was a deep, purring chuckle. "Well, Milo, it is very hard to keep this mane looking so good. Perhaps a friend like you could help me keep the twigs out of it?"

From that day on, Leo the Lion would stroll through the grass with Milo the Monkey perched right on his shoulder, happily grooming the King’s golden cloud.