cheetah with cubs resting under a tree

Beneath the old tree, the cheetah rests with her cubs folded against her warmth, a quiet rhythm of breath beneath the moon. The air glows blue and silver, soft as a lullaby carried through leaves. Her eyes, half-closed, remain alert : not out of fear, but instinct, the gentle vigilance of love. Around them, the savanna sleeps, its dangers momentarily forgotten. I love how the moonlight smooths the spots on her fur, turning strength into serenity. The cubs dream, and she listens, her heartbeat a low, steady promise. In this stillness, the wild world becomes tender:even the night pauses, holding its breath to let them be. Have a very nice day , @HanzvonFluffyton !