The forest holds its breath, a symphony of rustling leaves and snapping twigs. Fear here is primal, a bear’s roar in the night, a flash of claws. But the city’s fear is a different beast. It slithers in a smile that doesn’t meet the eyes, a footstep too close behind.

We scan faces, not for fangs but for something hidden, a darkness lurking beneath the surface. A bear attacks, a burst of violence, predictable. Men’s darkness is a slow, insidious creep, a whisper, a threat, a hand that lingers too long.
The bear’s hunger is easy to understand, a primal need. Men’s cruelty is a labyrinth, a confusing maze of power and control. We carry this weight, a constant assessment, a wariness etched into our bones.
We dream of a world where shadows don’t hold a threat, where trust is the air we breathe. But for now, we walk with a vigilance that never sleeps, a silent prayer that the monsters we fear will leave us be.