The Savannah

The grass is golden and swaying gently in a hot breeze that brings little relief from the heat. Despite the noon-day sun we are all at ease with this heat; it is the normal way of things after all. All about me; my mates laze, under the occasional bush-willow tree or out in the open. We blend into the tall dry grass with our sun-bleached fur. So much so that a pack of zebras are crossing the plain not ten paces away. They have not seen us. My ear twitches but I lay my head back on my paws lazily after yawning. We have eaten already.

When the sun was higher in the sky we feasted on an antelope who had a bad limp. He was easy pickings for the pack. A crocodile in the watering hole had surprised him that morning. It was a shame that he survived that only to be picked off by my best hunters later on but such is the way of things. We must feed to survive, just as they must. Out here its them or us and that’s all there is to it. Though I have had some interesting dealings with antelopes in the past when I wasn’t hungry.

Sass lifts her head and squints at the crossing of black and white animals through our territory. None of us really have names, not in the two-leg hunter’s sense of things. We name each other for a combination of attributes and their smell more often then not. But Sass is different. She lived with the two-leg hunters for a while and she bears the mark of that difference. She tends to be uppity and challenges the authority of the Leader too often. She was not raised among us so she is given a bit of leniency where others would be shown none. Her eyes flash towards mine and I twitch my nose.

She wants to go after the zebras. They have several that look weak or old and some are even separating themselves off from the herd, so safe and comfortable do they feel. Novice mistakes. Clean-Strider, our leader, has not called for the attack though and she must learn to relax. The pack is satiated, hunting now would be wasteful.

The two-leg hunters are the only wasteful ones. Too often have I seen creatures, marked by their odd weapons, dead in the middle of the fields. Waste. Fodder for the carrion feeders. Luckily carrion feeders exist to clean up the mess, even ours, and make use of the waste somehow. Still we avoid the loud noisy beasts the two-legs ride in and we try to stay out of their way. Only Sass has been up close and personal with them and as expected it wasn’t an amazing experience. Sass has gotten up and stalked to the edge of the Pride. Dusty-Mange peeks at her from under his scraggly greying mane.

Dusty-Mange is getting old and he’s not fond of Sass. It wont be long before he leaves the Pride and finds a place to have his Last Sleep. I only hope the carrion feeders don’t get him first. Sometimes when it is time for the Last Sleep, one cannot go before the sharp beaks of those annoying little air flappers is poking and pulling at various exposed bits. Let a cat die in peace I say but Clean-Strider does not allow us to guard the Last Sleep. The Last Sleep is a sacred rite and the participant leaves the Pride for the Prides protection. Stragglers create issues, like the antelope this morning.

We brought it down but because its herd was still around it one of our other teams got another antelope that was healthy and whole. I stretch and shift in the weed bed I’ve created, my long claws peeking out before retracting back in approval of my current docility. That was a good hunt. I had gotten the neck of the injured antelope while Sass held onto its rump. With the lame leg it was going down well before I sunk my incisors into its jugular. Brownleg was also with us and she let out an exultant howl as the beast fell to let the others know of our success.

After Clean-Strider had taken his share he gave us the Rights to feast next. Nothing is better then getting the Right. I dug into its hind quarter rending soft flesh off the bone while Sass struggled with the leg. She doesn’t know yet the best places to feast but she is learning. Brownleg hasn’t been eating much lately and her haunches are beginning to stand out. She took very little off the antelope before sauntering off and cleaning her paws. I worry about her. We do not want her to become a liability to the others but I was a cub with her. I would be sad if she was killed or if she died.

As if the thoughts of being killed has summoned it I see an Elephant herd on the horizon. Those big eared monsters can be very rude and I look to Clean-Strider for a sign. He has not moved. His large reddish mane rustles in the breeze as he entertains some of the cubs. They crawl all over him and bat at his ears and his tail which he jovially swishes back and forth for them to hunt. One tumbles off his back and runs a wide loping loop around. It could go too far which has some of us raise our heads to check on, but luckily it races back, big paws tripping it up.

The elephants are coming nearer. I don’t like them. They can get angry at very little provocation and their tusks draw the two legs behind them. They are trouble and even though we have found some lovely shade here under the bush-willows it might be better to move on. I stand and approach Clean-Strider. I give him a nuzzle and lick one of the cubs who is biting at his ear. This cub is mine and she is going to be a warrior but the cubs will not earn names until they have gone on their first hunt.

Clean-Strider shakes his head, mane tossing every which way. He will not have us move. He is not as afraid of the Grey-Skinned as I am. I attempt one more entreaty by nudging him with my nose but he will not be persuaded. He bats at my head absently and rolls over. The cubs all jump onto his exposed belly. Sass looks at me then at the Elephants, then at the Leader then to the sky to sniff. Standing I do the same. I smell nothing but that does not put me at ease. I stay standing, a tanned coloured flag standing above the tall golden grasses. See me Elephants, where there is one there is many.

But then it becomes a flurry. The peace of the savanna is ripped apart. Hidden birds take flight into thick cumulus clouds, somewhere a hyena barks. We all roar to various degrees the warning sounds to run. As I thought danger approaches. The elephants are charging and behind them come the infinite roars of the two legs. Elephants aren’t easy to take down, even the two legs will need to crack their terrible stick weapons more than once to be successful. I hate the elephants but I hate the waste more. In this moment I want the Grey-Skins to win.

We are running. Like every other creature getting away is the most important goal. The two leg hunters could change targets if they see the Pride. We are also popular among them. Sass has turned into something feral. Shes not just running shes hissing and spitting as she flees, her ears bent flat to her head. I try to keep them all in sight. Clean-Strider is near me at the back. It is his job to make sure we are all safe. I do not envy his position right now and I worry. He has a glorious mane of red. He sticks out like a sore thumb.

I growl and nip at Brownleg’s hind leg to relieve my frustrations but she is also falling behind. She did not take sufficient sustenance and even Dusty-Mange is further ahead. Clean-Strider growls. He is becoming very fed up with her. He might make her abandon the pack if this behavior keeps up. One of the hunters beasts is roaring behind us.

We seem to have caught the attention of one of the two-leg hunters. There are many and the cracking sounds of their sticks are beginning to leave a smoky burnt tinge on the air. The cubs have been picked up by various members, we are no longer running away we are panicking. We have to go faster. The cubs whine. It is not very comfortable being bashed around as they are grabbed any which way. They must bear with it.

This is how Sass was taken once upon a time. She will not be caught again and I see ahead she is dropping back a bit. It is on purpose, she is trying to match me and Clean-Strider. He roars at her to get going but she has a determined look on her face. She won’t leave us behind even though this is our job. Sass. But then she wouldn’t have the name if she wasn’t.

A two leg calls out behind us and his voice makes my fur prickle. The ground buckles as somewhere an elephant falls with a deafening trumpeting. The beasts the humans ride respond in kind with a high pitched honking. My legs feel watery and yet we have not gone all that far yet. I am scared. We are unable to fight their beasts. We must run. I hear squawking as birds are also being attacked. They fall in dizzying circles from the sky and smash into the earth with gross sounds. Hyenas are cackling somewhere. The two legs don’t generally hunt them, unless the hyena begins to annoy them. They are scavengers and they will feast well on the fields of our failures later.

Suddenly a crack sounds and at the same time I see Clean-Strider buckle temporarily. His hind leg is bleeding and he is slowing down. We must be away! I hesitate in my stride at his weakening but he roars, his white teeth glittering. He is urging me onward and I must listen. I bound over a hillock and fall into pace beside Sass who has managed to get Brownleg moving with some urgency.

The red rocks aren’t far and we will melt into those like water. The two leg beasts also have more trouble with the rocks. They are not able to traverse it as easily if at all. We blast past the first rocks, bending our steps upward. Panting and out of breath we lie down, hackles raised and spread out among the rocks. If the two legs come without their beasts we will attack. I signal the hunters and they shift slowly around into positions that are advantageous. I haven’t seen Clean-Strider and I am getting worried.

Without the Leader our pack will need to pick a new one. The closest in age and experience is Young Red but he could lead us to our deaths. I’m not ready to part from Clean-Strider yet. Then I see him, he is limping along and hiding among the grasses as he makes his way to the rocks. The two legs are not far behind him, they follow his trail. Normally he is seamless in the grass leaving such a small trace as to be enviable. Now he is injured and bleeding. I shift my shoulders and test my claws. I will protect him.

Sass and Tanned-Hopper seem to have the same idea as they are also inching forward away from safety. The two legs following Clean-Strider have abandoned their beast but not their sticks. The playing field is more to our advantage and if they come in range just a bit more we can make a go of defending the Pride as well as Clean-Strider. We will assess later if Clean-Strider is a liability or not. I toss my head. That is not helpful to consider. I must be in the hunt. We glide forward on soft paw-pads preparing our counter attack.

We don’t engage the two legs often and I am curious. Perhaps we will kill them and leave them, as they leave so many of ours. Waste. The ultimate betrayal. That would feel good. I can see it in Sass’s glittering green eyes that she is having the same thought. There is something darker there as well. A revenge for herself that perhaps she has dreamt of.

We are almost ready to run and begin the assault when one of the two legs gives a whooping cry and they begin to fall back out of our kill zone. Clean-Strider is behind us now, safe and hiding in the rocks somewhere. My blood is pounding, I want to attack but only a fool would chase them now that they have moved outside our zone. I would endanger the whole hunting party if I bounded out now but I cannot let them go without scaring them. Even one tenth of what they have done to us. I growl. A long low hissing growl joins me. That’s Sass. Then a third higher pitch whining warning issues forth from where Tanned-Hopper waits. After a few seconds I hear some other growls raising from the rocks. The two legs begin to run and scamper back over the hills toward their weird beast.

We come out of hiding, pock marking the hills and watching them disappear. Clean-Strider also stands, his mane whips in the breeze around his head. I go to him and check his leg. It is a graze and will thankfully heal. I lick it and he groans and lays down. Later I will annoy him about being right about the need to move when we saw the elephants, but not just yet. He needs a moment to recover. We all do.

The field is a massacre. Dead fowl and an elephant and a couple of zebra’s are all becoming points of interest for the hyenas and other bottom feeders. Even from here in the rocks I can tell that the elephant has lost his tusks to the two-legs. Their trophy for ending his life. They do not even want his meat. They are not hungry. Such waste is only present in the two legs.

They disgust me.