The Digging King

The summer sun was a giant, glowing coin in the sky, and it was stubborn. It stayed out longer and shone brighter than it had in years. In the heart of the dusty savanna, the tall green grass turned the color of old straw, and one by one, the watering holes puckered up and disappeared into the dry earth.

All the animals were hot, tired, and very, very thirsty.

The little creatures looked up to the biggest creature with the biggest hair: the Lion. As the King of the Jungle, he knew it was his job to look after everyone. He stood on top of a smooth, warm rock, his wide eyes scanning the horizon. He didn’t have a magical crown, and he couldn’t make it rain, but he did have four big paws and a very determined heart.

"Don't worry," the King rumbled softly, trying to sound much braver than he felt. "I will find us a drink."

He walked until his paws felt a patch of ground that was just a tiny bit cooler than the rest. It was right beneath the roots of an ancient, sleeping baobab tree.

Scritch. Scratch. Cushion-paw, crunch! The King began to dig.

At first, it was just dry, flying dust that made him sneeze. Achoo! The dust settled into his glorious brown mane until he looked like a powdered donut. But he didn’t stop.

The sun went down, and the cool night air arrived, but the King kept digging. Scritch, scratch, scoop. The next morning, the sun popped back up, hotter than ever. A little meerkat peeked over the edge of the hole. "Your Majesty? Are you making a very deep sandbox?"

"I am looking for the hidden river," the King panted, his nose covered in dirt.

Day turned into night, and night turned back into day. The hole grew so deep that only the tip of the King's tail could be seen twitching above the rim. Thump, clump, splash—

Wait. Splash?

The King looked down at his paws. The dirt wasn't dusty anymore. It was squishy. It was muddy. Then, with a happy GURGLE, a bright, cool jet of crystal-clear water burst through the ground! It filled the deep well, bubbling right up to the very top and spilling over into a brand-new, refreshing pool.

"Water!" squeaked the meerkat.

"Water!" roared the King, though it was a very soggy, happy sort of roar.

Animals came from everywhere. The zebras took long, cool gulps. The elephants sprayed water over their ears, and the little birds splashed around like they were in a giant bathtub.

By the time the long summer finally faded and the crisp, chilly winter arrived, the savanna was a different place. The trees stayed green, the animals stayed full and happy, and nobody went thirsty during the cold months.

As for the King? He sat on his favorite rock, his fur finally clean, watching his friends play by the pool. He realized you didn't need a magic wand to be a good king—sometimes, you just needed to roll up your sleeves and get a little mud on your nose.