The marmot looked devastated. His fur was tangled, his eyes tired, his head hanging low.

He could barely move. At the slightest sound, he flinched in fear. Quietly whimpering, yet determined, he continued on his path.

Another marmot, freshly awakened from hibernation, was curiously exploring the area. The sun was shining, its rays warming his fur. Though a bit thin after the long winter, he was full of energy, ready to begin the new season. He hopped from one rock to the next, searching for food.

His gaze fell on the newcomer, and after a moment, he hopped over.

“Who are you? I’ve never seen you here before,” he asked.

“I am the Resource,” the weak marmot replied softly.

“What kind of name is that? Don’t you have another one? My name is Max, and I’ve lived here for years, but I’ve never seen anyone in such a miserable state.”

“I had a name, but I’ve already forgotten it.”

The weak marmot then explained that he came from the city. Where he had worked, they called him only “Resource.” He had toiled for years, often on projects that felt meaningless to him, where developing and overly controlling superiors tried to dictate how he should do his work. They believed they knew better and attempted to manage every detail.

They had reduced him, and many other marmots, to the role of a replaceable resource, expected to work quietly and efficiently.

A resource is colorless, faceless, with the same abilities as anyone else, and easily replaced. Once a marmot is given the name “Resource,” he must give up his identity.

“That is simply short-sighted and foolish,” said Max. “Every marmot has valuable knowledge, skills, and abilities. Leaving them unused is a huge mistake. Here in the mountains, that matters greatly for survival.”

“Absolutely. When someone cannot fully develop their abilities, and is forced to constantly carry out unsuitable tasks with a sigh, that is no marmot’s life. I suffered. Everything I cared about — my side projects, ideas, new plans, growing together with other marmots — I had to pursue in my free time. But it couldn’t go on like that.

I longed for freedom. A place where no one tells me what to do, where I can do what truly matters. What has real meaning. So I ran away,” the weak marmot added, his eyes suddenly lighting up.

“If you’re looking for freedom, there is plenty of it here in the wilderness. But to survive, you need more than skill and the ability to find food.

You will face dangers here. From the air, where an eagle may carry you away. You must endure heat, cold, wind, and storms.

You must find and defend your territory. It’s hard work. Your food is not guaranteed,” said the wild marmot.

Then he added:

“What you gain in return is boundless freedom. You wake up when you want, or when your stomach growls. You discover new corners, hiding places, sunny and shaded spots.

You enjoy the sunrise, the sunset, and the fresh mountain air. You can let your creativity run free and turn your dreams into action.”

“That sounds tempting. It’s exactly what I’m looking for,” said the newcomer.

“Good. But in your condition, you must first regain your strength. I’ll show you where to find food for the next few days. After that, you can find your own territory and establish yourself in the wilderness, become independent. I’ll help you at the beginning, but after that, you must find your own way… Don’t forget, it’s a hard life, but one you will enjoy.”

…And so the two marmots hopped on, in a gentle breeze, under soft rays of sunlight… Yes, the sun was smiling.

#

#

…Story inspired by a sunny day in snow with a curious marmot, fresh out of its burrow…