Pench is not a forest of stillness. It is a forest of motion — of silent patrols at dawn, of scent marks etched into dust and bark, of roars that echo through valleys long after the tiger has vanished into tall grass.For those who truly understand Pench, the tiger is not just an animal to be seen. He is a force that reshapes the forest itself.Every dominant male tiger in Pench writes a chapter — not with words, but with