Barnaby the hunter, who always told everyone he was the bravest hunter in the land, marched into the forest one sunny morning. He carried a big spear, but mostly, he carried big words. "I'm looking for a lion!" he announced to the squirrels and the birds. "A big, fierce lion!"

Soon, he saw a woodcutter, busy chopping wood. Let's call him Woody.
"Excuse me, good sir!" Barnaby called out, puffing his chest. "Have you seen any lion tracks around here? Or perhaps you know where its den is? I'm on a very important hunt for a lion!"

Woody stopped his chopping and wiped his brow. "Lion tracks? Oh, I can do better than that! I just saw the lion a moment ago. He's not far from here. Come with me, and I'll show you the lion himself!"

Barnaby's face went as white as a cloud. His knees started to wobble like jelly. His spear suddenly felt very heavy.
"Oh! Oh, no, thank you!" stammered Barnaby, his voice suddenly small. "That's... that's very kind. But I... I was only looking for its *tracks*, you see. Just the footprints! Not the... not the actual lion. No, no, not the lion itself!"

And with that, Barnaby backed away slowly, then turned and ran as fast as his wobbly legs could carry him, all the way out of the forest.

Woody watched him go, a little smile playing on his lips. He shook his head and went back to his chopping, thinking that sometimes, big words are much easier to carry than a brave heart.

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