In The Fit Of Fury

Honey For The Heart - 21

It happened fast.
A flash of words.
A slamming of paws.
Then silence.

Bumble stormed off… blind with rage, chest heaving, leaving behind a stunned silence and the echo of a slammed flap louder than reason.

Piggy stood frozen, shaken by a fury he’d never seen in his friend.

By nightfall, the woods had quietened.
But not Bumble.
Alone with his thoughts, he kept replaying the moment..The volume..The sharpness.

“You never listen, Piggy!” he’d shouted.
Piggy had tried to explain. “I was only…”
But Bumble hadn’t heard. He’d stormed out… and now couldn’t escape his thoughts.

As the night wore on, his anger cooled…leaving behind only its ashes, and the bitter taste of regret.
He hadn’t just accused Piggy. He had broken his heart.

And for what?
A scarf?
Piggy had borrowed. And misplaced.
Yes, it was the only memory left of his dad.
But does anger ever wait for reason?

It kicks open the flap, shoves out sense, and howls like it owns you.

“I said things I didn’t even mean,” Bumble muttered. “And now he’ll believe them all to be true.”

“Forest-folk say…when angry, dig your claws into mud and wait it out…”
He sighed. “But when your insides burn, all you want to do is... roar.”

By morning, Piggy hadn’t come.
No birch-mud soap scent. No happy snorts.

The silence stung more than the fight.

Bumble padded to Piggy’s doorstep with freshly plucked honey-suckles… and knocked.

Piggy opened the burrow door…halfway.

“I’m sorry,” Bumble said gently.

Piggy’s eyes welled. “It hurt. Not just what you said, but how you didn’t see me in that moment.”

“I know,” Bumble whispered. “Anger made me blind. I don’t know how to undo it.”

“Sometimes you can’t,” Piggy replied. “But coming here, owning the weight? That’s louder than ‘sorry.’”

By evening, Piggy was at the clearing, stacking stones into a quiet cairn.

He murmured, “I never meant to lose your scarf. I owe you a sorry too.”

There were no dramatic hugs. No instant paw-shakes.
Just two friends.
Sitting amidst the ruins of rage.
Slowly coming back.

Because the hardest apology isn’t in words.
It’s in returning.
Remaining.
And loving… above your ego.