On the following morning, atop the highest rock in the Biluo forest, stood a golden lion. The sunlight, after the snow had ceased, shone on it. In the miraculous brilliance, it lifted its proud head and gazed into a certain spot in the air.
In the jungle, a group of men and women armed with bows and arrows ran like the wind.
"It's him! I saw it ten years ago!" exclaimed the leading old man, moving with incredible speed.
Familiar faces appeared one after another in the lion's eyes.
At the very end was her father. He lacked the excitement of the others, his brows furrowed deeply.
Watching them, the lion lowered its head quietly, waiting patiently.
It hummed a song in its heart.
In another part of the forest, he sat quietly on a snow-covered spruce tree, opening the gift she had given him.
It was the drawing he had left behind that day.
However, after the few lines he had written, there were several rows of small words written in beautiful handwriting—
If we meet,
And you've forgotten the lyrics, I'll remember the tune.
If we meet,
And you're lost in the twilight, I'll light the way.
If we meet, please come to me.
If it doesn't work out in this life,
Then perhaps in the next.
A sharp arrow flowing with a radiance of nine colors and its arrowhead as penetrating as a crystal shot through the air leaving a fiery red trail, flying towards the lion on the rock…
If I say lions can smile too, do you believe it?
Well, it was indeed smiling on the rock.
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