On a warm afternoon, Grandfather entrusted five-year-old Kynthos with a special task: watching the goat fold on the high ridge.
Around his neck hung the polished bronze warning horn — used only to signal the village if a mountain wolf or runaway bull approached.
"Keep it safe, Kynthos," Grandfather warned softly. "A signal horn is not a toy."
After an hour under the baking sun, Kynthos grew restless. The goats grazed peacefully, and Steve was down in the garden repairing fences.
Kynthos looked at the shiny bronze horn in his hands.
"I wonder how fast they can run," he whispered to himself.
Lifting the horn, he blew two long, loud blasts across the valley.
Within seconds, Steve dropped his tools and sprinted up the rocky path. Grandfather hurried with him, eyes searching the ridge for danger.
When they reached the top, gasping for breath, there was no predator in sight.
Kynthos giggled, pointing at Steve's worried expression.
"It was just a test! Look how fast you ran!"
Grandfather handed his staff to Steve, whose face flushed with frustration.
Grandfather did not raise his voice. Instead, he reached out and gently removed the strap from Kynthos's neck.
"A signal horn is not just brass and air," Grandfather said quietly.
"It is a promise of truth. When you blow it falsely, you burn the trust that brings help when real danger strikes."
Kynthos looked at the dirt, his laughter vanishing.
Late the following afternoon, dark storm clouds rolled over the mountain ridge without warning.
While gathering a stray kid goat near the rocky ledge, a sudden gust of wind dislodged loose boulders. Heavy stones tumbled down, trapping Kynthos's leg beneath a boulder.
"Steve! Grandfather! Help!" Kynthos cried out into the howling wind.
Down in the yard, Steve heard the faint cries through the thunder. He paused, remembering yesterday's prank.
"Is he playing another game?" Steve wondered aloud.
Grandfather placed a steady hand on Steve's arm. "A wise person does not abandon duty even when trust was shaken. We go."
Together they raced up the trail through the pouring rain.
They found Kynthos shivering and terrified under the heavy stone. Steve used a thick timber to pry the boulder free while Grandfather pulled Kynthos to safety.
Kynthos held his brother's hand tightly, tears glistening from the setting sun.
"I thought nobody was coming..." he sobbed.
"That is the terror of a broken word," Grandfather said gently as he wrapped Kynthos in a dry cloak.
"When your voice loses its truth, even your real cries sound like games to the world."
