After the pigeons had departed, Laghupatanaka did not return to the banyan tree. The conduct of Hiranyaka had remained in his thoughts. The mouse had hastened to rescue a friend without hesitation, while Chitragriva, though bound himself, had thought first of those who had placed their trust in him. "Such wisdom is rarely found," the crow thought. "If fortune permits, I shall make this mouse my friend." With that resolve, he flew to the foot of the tree beneath which Hiranyaka lived and called, "Hiranyaka, it is I, Laghupatanaka. If you have no fear, come out for a while. I wish to speak with you."

From within the safety of the burrow, Hiranyaka replied, "I know your voice. But for what purpose have you come?"

"I have come seeking your friendship," answered the crow.

The mouse remained where he was. "You are a crow, and I am a mouse. Between our kind there has always been enmity. Friendship between us is neither natural nor wise."

Laghupatanaka was not offended. "You speak according to reason," he said. "Yet it is not birth alone that determines conduct. There are those who abandon their nature for greed, and there are others who rise above it through virtue. Judge me, not because I am a crow, but by the manner in which I conduct myself."

Hiranyaka answered, "Pleasant words are easily spoken. Many have trusted them and afterwards repented. A prudent man does not place his confidence in a stranger."

"I ask for no confidence today," replied Laghupatanaka. "Let time speak on my behalf. If my conduct proves false, you may dismiss me without regret. If it proves true, friendship will come of its own accord."

For a while neither spoke. The crow did not argue, nor did he depart. He remained quietly beneath the tree. At length Hiranyaka broke the silence. "You are still here."

"I am," said Laghupatanaka. "A worthy friend is not easily found. If I leave too soon, I may lose the chance to know one."

Those words pleased the mouse, though he remained within his burrow. "Suppose I come out," he said. "What assurance have I that you will not seize me?"

The crow replied with a smile. "Until that doubt leaves your mind, remain where you are. We may speak from where we stand. Friendship need not be hurried."

So they spoke for the rest of that day. The next morning the crow returned, and again they spent many hours in conversation. Days passed in this manner. Hiranyaka listened carefully to the crow's words, but he watched his conduct even more closely. Laghupatanaka never grew impatient, never spoke deceitfully, and never once gave the mouse cause for fear.

At last Hiranyaka stepped out of his burrow and stood before the crow for the first time. "Your conduct has remained true to your words," he said. "From this day, let there be friendship between us."

Laghupatanaka bowed his head with quiet joy. "I shall strive never to make you regret those words."

From that day onward, the crow visited Hiranyaka every morning. They spent long hours in conversation, and with each passing day their friendship grew stronger. Though the world regarded them as natural enemies, they had chosen to place their trust not in appearances, but in character.

Hiranyaka did not withhold his friendship because Laghupatanaka was a crow, nor did he accept him because his words were pleasing. He watched, he waited, and only then did he trust. True friendship begins where patient judgment is allowed to speak before the heart.