There were mushrooms that lifted up the spirits of kimeti and stimulated their memories. One such mushroom was consumed by Smoke Beetle, lover of all that numbs judgment. As he finished eating it, many lost images rushed back into his mind, including previously forgotten tales from his childhood.
He had a sudden urge to spit it all out; his skull would explode if he didn't spit the words out. When he turned his head, he saw in the corner of his eyes a newly-hatched and quite lost foal.
“Kiddo, you're my audience for tonight”, he whispered. “Y'know the ferocious Black Dog? Well, in a moment, you will. Stay there.”



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Of all the Stories Black Dog tamed, the fourth was the shortest. Short, but intense, as small and fast as a flea, and while no one could best Black Dog for hunting and running, that Story easily bested him for jumping and hiding. It only stirred the buck's ire more and more with each escape.
On the day he decided to hunt it, Black Dog chased this Story all across the land. When it leapt on top of old trees, the buck would ram the trunk until it fell in a slow and loud crash. When it leapt on top of young bushes, the buck would consciously chew on its fresh and green roots until it fell in a swift and silent thud. Fortunately, the Story could not reach the moon, nor jump on the back of fireflies to leave the swamp; it took too much delight in tormenting the buck to even try.
When the sun set, it eventually grew tired of the pursuit, and jumped into a deep puddle to rest. Little did it know Black Dog had seen it hide, and immediately, he drank all the water in an instant to catch the short Story when it was least prepared. To his surprise, after all the water was drunk, there was nothing left but the moist soil of the swamp underneath.

Decidedly confused and annoyed, Black Dog did the wise thing and went to ask the Legendary Dry Eyes for advice.
This is how the dialogue went;

This Story hid into the water
I drank it so not to chase it later
And there was no water left
But of a prey I am bereft

Dry Eyes chuckled and laughed and ran
All around the buck, tail whipping like a fan
He said, you clearly needed my help
In order to get the little whelp
Hiding at the only place
That you can't check
It is in your face
It's but a speck
While your were retelling
The Story was staring
From inside your mouth
'tis simple, you just have to cough

Black Dog shook his head, almost but not quite daring suggest Dry Eyes was mocking him. He opened his mouth to reply, but noticed at last the tiny Story lurking in his throat, holding his flesh with even tinier claws.
Dry Eyes was right! But if he spat out his prey, he ran the risk of letting it escape once again. Instead, he talked to the Story inside him, using these very words:

Between my teeth you fell
I could kill and eat you in a bite
You wouldn't put up much of a fight
Or you could instead tell
Your secrets using temporarily my voice
My ignorance or your life, such is your choice

There was a short silence. But as wild as that Story was, it was only ferocious to the birds and insects; as such, Black Dog's voice left his throat, charged with secrets and tales he was ignorant of. But he couldn't be held responsible for any words that left his mouth, as he'd just allowed the Story to borrow them.
It didn't have many secrets, but the words it used were as lively and passionate as it once was. The hunter listened to his own voice with great attention.
When it was done, the buck quietly took back his voice and asked the Story to obey him, or else he would find it again, and there would be no second chance.
The Story saw that it was wisest to accept the deal. Black Dog coughed and shook, and the Story came out. It was short, but intense, and despite its size, any attentive eye could notice it was as frightening as it's taller counterparts.
And thus was Black Dog's fourth Story defeated.




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Smoke Beetle slurred this tale more than he had actually narrated it. He also may or not have done Black Dog and Dry Eyes' voices; he couldn't remember those kinds of details, and it was probably fortunate, as the clueless foal's mother had suddenly appeared to guide her child away from the stranger who was appearing to be completely out there.
(She mustn't have been the kind of doe Beetle would have enjoyed hanging out with.)
It didn't take long for the buck to instead call his mongooses Sphere and Disc and pretend they were interested in the other stories he wanted to tell, most of which were obscene in nature and had nothing to do with the Black Dog.