Milo darted across the sun-warmed grass. He bumped right into something enormous — a giant pink paw.
The lion's amber eye flew open. He scooped Milo up between two enormous claws. "A mouse!" he rumbled.
Milo went very still. Then he squeaked, "Please let me go — one day I'll help you!"
The lion blinked, then laughed — a big rumbling laugh that blew Milo's whiskers sideways. He set Milo down and lumbers away.
Days later, a sharp SNAP! The lion had stepped into a hunter's rope net. It yanked him upward by his tail.
He thrashed and roared, but the net only twisted tighter. Milo heard the desperate roaring and scampers toward the rocky clearing.
His tiny paws hit the dirt fast. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, faster. Milo scrambles up the knotted ropes.
The net scratches his belly. He reaches the lion and starts chewing — nibble, nibble, nibble — at the thick rope.
Snip. Snap. A piece of rope flies away like a curly noodle. Milo keeps going until — RRRRIIIP — the net falls loose!
The lion drops onto all fours. Milo stands on his hind legs and brushes sawdust off his paws.
The lion lowers his great head until his nose almost touches Milo's. His golden eyes are soft. "You came back," he murmurs.
Milo pretends to shrug, but his whiskers twitch. Together, they walk out across the savanna — the giant and the tiny — into the tall golden grass.
