The Amaris Scarf

The Spots of The Leopards

A Folktale from Africa

Long, long ago, when the earth was still young and the animals lived in peace, Leopard did not have spots. His coat was the color of golden sand — smooth, shining, and bright as the sun. He was proud of his beauty and often walked through the savanna as if the world belonged to him.

Back then, Leopard was not a hunter. He ate only fallen fruits and roots, like the warthogs and bush pigs. But as the rains came and the land grew thick with grass, Leopard watched the other animals grow strong, fast, and clever. He became jealous of Lion, who ruled the land with his roar. He envied Hyena, who laughed and never went hungry. And most of all, he admired the hunter — the silent one — the creature who could move without being seen: Snake.

Leopard went to Snake and said,
“Teach me how to hunt. Teach me how to move like shadow and strike like thunder.”

Snake hissed softly, “You are too bright. Your golden coat blinds the grass. No hunter walks like the sun.”

Leopard lowered his head. “Then tell me how to change. I want to walk unseen.”

Snake flicked his tongue thoughtfully. “Go to the forest. Find the Dark One — the Spirit of the Night. If she finds you worthy, she will mark you with the gift of shadow.”

So Leopard walked for many days and nights, through desert and rain, through thorn bush and river, until he reached the oldest forest in the heart of Africa. There, the trees touched the sky, and the light barely touched the ground.

In the heart of that forest, he waited. For three days and three nights, he did not eat or speak. He sat in silence, listening to the rustling of the trees, the calls of night birds, and the whisper of spirits.

On the fourth night, the Dark One came. She was not a beast, but a presence — colder than wind, softer than smoke, darker than the space between stars.

“You seek to hunt?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Leopard, his voice steady.

“Then you must give up your pride. You must give up your shine. You must carry the night on your back.”

Leopard closed his eyes and nodded. “I am ready.”

The Dark One stretched out her fingers, dipped them in the shadows between the trees, and pressed them onto Leopard’s coat. Everywhere she touched, a dark spot bloomed — some large, some small — until his golden coat was no longer plain, but painted with the forest’s own darkness.

“These are not just marks,” she said. “They are the eyes of the night. With them, you will walk unseen. But remember: once you carry shadow, you must never forget silence.”

From that day on, Leopard became the finest hunter in all of Africa. He moved like wind through the tall grass, and no one ever heard him coming. The animals grew cautious, and even the birds stopped singing when they saw his shadow.

And that is why, to this day, Leopard wears the spots of the night — a gift from the forest and the silence he learned to carry.