Cover of morning mist, treacheous
bring them face to face,
in the depth, green darkness of a forest.
A porcupine and a pangolin,
armed to the teeth,
ready to start a war at short notice,
both are not pleased to the least,
this encounter shouldn't have happened,
that thought crosses the minds of both,
the mist is the culprit,
but how do they know that?

If porcupine is equipped with missiles and lances,
pangolin is  protected with armour plates,
both come to understand, in a second,
they stare, with no emotions in display
sniffing the air for even the faintest of signals,
they stand still, rock like, take stock.

A spell of forest seize them, tell a few things
in soft whisper, that humans fails to listen always.
Nature tell them in quick time,
the secret equation of them, in this terrain-
in smells, sounds and a hundred myriad things.

Each one reads the other's face, watch expressions,
then, in a moment the prompt of the nature is clear
Voice of the forest speaks
"Don't waste the spikes, you need them later,
Fighting with a pangolin is a wild goose chase"
"Why fight porcupine, the ant kingdom awaits"
Porcupine and pangolin, listening to the voice of wisdom,
move away quick, as if hit by a lightening
the cover of the mist lends a clever helping hand.