The Dance of the Prey: The White Tiger

The pathway is obvious. A streak of fresh dirt, golden coloured, stark amid the viridian sea of grass. Into the forest there is no other direction but along this path that cuts through the tall grass of the prairie. Only problem is, the nearer it gets to the edge of the forest, where grass is obscured by dark woods, the more likely the chance of an ambush.

Like I said, the pathway is too obvious.

We don't have a choice. The children will get lost in the almost chest high grass, and the path allows for the quickest access into the woods. It is noon when we found ourselves on the path, the forest only a few hundred metres away.

I am at the back, where I always situated myself. A little down the path from the children, bent double to hide myself in the grass. I watch as the last child, Gabriel, brings up the rear. Here, I can protect them.

Suddenly Gabe bends double, clutching at his abdomen. I abandon my spot as cold tickles up my spine, kicking up clouds of dust as I rush to him. No, not here. Not now. I loom over him just in time to catch his frail form as he keels over into my arms, eyes blinding white. Not a vision, not here. 

He continues to tremble gently as I get down on one knee, holding him lest he rolls away. Ahead, the troupe of children, those that were yet to be ushered into the safety of the treeline, stop and turn. Some hurry forward, but I wave them away, mouthing a name to the closest girl. She understood, nodding and sprinting off. I clutch at Gabe, glancing this way and that as my neck prickles. I hate this, out in the open. Gabe is much too heavy for me to carry. If they come… 

I whirl back as footsteps sprint to my side. Yt. She kneels next to me, gathering Gabe in her arms. Her shoulder length white hair, streaked with a line of black, fly into her face. Bent double to try to conceal her lean form in the grass, she heaves to her feet, stumbling toward the treeline. A hand on the small of her back, I bring up the rear, praying silently. 

The children are all safe when we near the treeline, only a few figures obvious through the leaves, waiting.

I felt it before I saw it. A drop in the temperature, so subtle it is like snow melting. Suddenly the grass is moving in high definition, and the sunlight is so piercing it glances off the leaves like it would in a photograph. I can barely squeeze out a warning before the shadow descends. The creature, bat-like against the sun, thuds to the ground between us and the trees. 

It makes no sound of its own save for the thudding of its four thin claws on the ground. Its thin waist twists for its muscular upper body to face us, the head like an insect’s. Eyes everywhere, a globe that gives it immaculate vision. A butterfly-like tongue rolls out to taste the air, like a snake. The thin, bat-like jaw with its four needles, barbed, two above and two below, opens in a soundless leer. They are meant for latching onto prey, and never letting go. The wing flaps that it glides with folds into its slimy abdomen. 

The claws give me nightmares. Three fingers each, they end in the type of claws that a dinosaur had. Long, curved, deadly. Gasping the ground and kicking up dirt, they splay to hold its massive upper body and thin flank that gives it its agility. 

It is the size of a small car. Its head twitches grotesquely at us. 

I put one hand on Yt’s shoulder. She can do nothing with Gabe in her arms, still out of commission. I hate it, almost hiding behind her, small and useless. All I have are my marbles and my wrist canon. The marbles, I look down, are all gas ones, swirling grey. I doubt it will make much of a difference, but I have to try. I load one into my wrist canon. It pops in, then the Seeker charges.

It barrels toward us like a rampaging bull, its head hung low to catch us in its jaw. 

Despite the wide coverage of its eyes, we know from past experience that its vision is terrible, especially in daylight. All I hope it can see are blurred blobs of colour. We found no impediments in its hearing or taste. That is absurdly unfair.

I push Yt to one side, flinging myself to another. As it charges past I aim the cannon, squinting. I let loose. The marble flies through the air, landing at its feet where it skidded to a stop to turn. The marble detonates, releasing its contents . A cloud of opaque mist burst outward like a bomb, so dark they obscure the sunlight, casting a shadow on the ground.  

I push myself to my feet, thudding after Yt who is already making for the trees. A few children venture out, arms raised toward us. I wanted to scream for them to get back. I cannot protect them all. The very sight of one small child, beckoning hurriedly toward us, a whole pace from the shadow of the forest makes my heart skip a beat. Even this close to safety, they are not safe. Never safe.

I’ve seen this before. I was only a little girl. I cannot protect them then, and I cannot now. I can only watch as the Seeker charges out of the mist with the accuracy that can only be attributed to luck. It barrels toward Yt, past me, toward the children. 

I raise a hand. To grab it? To stop it? For some miracle power to come pouring out of me? I don't know. I can only hope blindly.

And I can only yell as it leaps forward, over Yt who drops to her knees. Its momentum propels it toward the trees. To the children that scatter, save one. 

It had to be the little ones. The ones that cannot even grow up. Like some horrific, sadistic movie aimed to make you lament over the lost childhood of a child, to have you gasp at its controversy.

There's nothing controversial about killing kids to them. They take anything. Predators that hunt the smallest, weakest of the group. They take anything.

Its weight drives it downward, drives a single claw through the body of the child. His eyes are wide. It is the same face he would have made as he gazes at some miracle of the world. His arms outward as if he is ready to take flight, his little form buckles and crumples to the ground.

I don't even know his name.

Hot blood spurs through me. The determination to give the child a burial, to lay his body to rest in a land that he knows and loves, among his friends. Not in that creature's den, somewhere far away, digested into nothingness. 

I yell again, an intelligible, garbled burst of sound. A challenge. The creature turns, head tilting, like a robot. No conscience. I raise my hands in a dare, screaming for it to come at me. I can feel the veins in my neck, straining. My face grows hot.

I can see Yt scramble for safety. Good. If she has any sense, she will take them as far away as possible, deep in the woods. And I can at least buy them time. I see her vanish without the body.

No, take him! I scream for her to take him, but no reply. 

The Seeker didn't let me languish over that fact too long; it rushes at me again, systematically. I prepare to leap to one side. I cannot keep up playing this twisted form of hide and seek for long. I will tire, and I will stumble.

But I have to get to him. I have to play this smart.

I stand my ground, pulling another marble from my arm brace. I get ready to leap as it pounces. 

It didn't. Instead, it is thrown sideways, a good few paces before skidding to a halt, ploughing the dirt. Between us, stands Yt, but she was no longer a girl. The white, striped tail swishes in front of me and she is crouched, head down, the low growl that emanates from her whole body shaking the earth as she faces the Seeker.

The White Tiger roars, then pounces.