Surviving Isn't Always That Easy (standard:adventure, 13697 words)
Author: COL	Added: Aug 08 2003	Views/Reads: 3591/2612	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
My story takes place amid the bounty of the African wilderness. A lion cub loses his mom to poachers and faces life alone- with one friend- against all the hazards lying under every rock. His adventures are full of tension, horror and fantasy. Follow hi

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Spot. You'll never be alone”, she solaced, licking me. “I love you 
mom”, I said, looking gratefully into her beautiful blue eyes. “I love 
you too, Spot, I love you too”. I had never seen any of the pride 
members. I knew that fundamentally, the pride is a group of Lions, who 
abet each other mainly in protection and socialize with one another. A 
pride has a territory of its own and conducts its life within that 
territory. Mom told me that our pride consisted of her, her sister, her 
cousin, two more distantly related Lionesses, a few cubs, and two males 
that dominated the pride. “What do you mean- dominate?” I had wondered 
once. “You'll see when you join us. It's something you have to 
experience to understand.” There were so many things that I had to 
experience before I even knew what they were. I couldn't wait to find 
out the answers to all these arcane mysteries. 

Hearing some eerie noises outside, I crept out of the den and turned my
head, scanning the area from which the noises came. I was astounded by 
what I'd seen. I closed my eyes in disbelief but I wasn't imagining it. 
There he was, right in front of me. Standing, staring at me in the 
exact same way I was at him. His mane incipient, that tender smile and 
that unique white dapple on the front of his right paw. I was 
inebriatedly ebullient. I ran so frantically that I crashed into him 
and fell backwards. He hugged me endearingly and crouched so that his 
face leveled with mine. “I missed you so much”, I uttered. “You have no 
idea” he replied yearningly. “Are you going to stay here with us for a 
while?” I pleaded. “Sorry kid”, he answered, suddenly glacially aloof. 
Then, in a split second, he dashed off amazingly fast, out of sight. 

I immediately woke up with tears in my eyes before discerning that it
was all nothing but a bereaving dream. It had been so specious! This 
time when I thought about him it felt more real than ever. Then it 
finally dawned on me. Maybe the dream was connoting something that I 
was oblivious of until that moment. Maybe I wasn't contemplating Dusk's 
departure from the right angle. Maybe I was too engrossed in my 
doldrums and longing to see Dusk again that I forgot his happiness and 
bliss in, for the first time, conducting a life of his own, nobody but 
him responsible for himself. At that I decided instantly that I must 
rejoice in my brother's happiness instead of indulging in this 
agitating self-pity. For the first time, I was forsooth happy at Dusk's 
absence. Feeling that elevated my spirit and lightened the burden I was 
carrying hitherto. Falling asleep was subsequently facile. 

At sunrise, my mom came to the den. She yawned that famous, energetic “I
just had a great night sleep” yawn. “Good morning son”, she accosted. 
“Morning mom”, I replied debonairly. “Mom, yesterday I had a dream 
about Dusk”. “Good or bad?” she inquired as she started grooming me. 
“Very good. It was actually extremely insightful. I feel much better 
now.” “That's terrific. What happened in it?” “Well, Dusk showed up in 
the middle of the night. We spoke a little and he suddenly ran off.” 
“And how did that make you feel better? It seems to me like a rather 
heart- rending dream.” “It kind of took me by surprise, too. I guess 
that now instead of missing him and feeling melancholy about it, I 
decided to try to feel happy for him. I know he is, even though he 
probably misses us too.” Mom kept silent for a while and just smiled, 
wrinkling her forehead and raising her eyebrows in what seemed to me 
like pride. Pride in that I was mature and magnanimous enough to say 
what I just had. “Spot, you've grown up so quickly. I...” “Mom”, I 
chimed in. “Shhh, let me finish, son. Yesterday I determined, with the 
other Lionesses of the pride all concurring, that tomorrow I'll allow 
you to leave the den forever. Spot, you're following you're brother's 
path. You've grown up to be a perceptive, curious cub who is well 
equipped to handle life in the wild.” She held me tight to her belly. 
Her ferment was palpable, an amalgam of excitement and tumult. “Soon 
you will begin to learn about nature and how to fend for yourself. When 
your time comes, you will leave the pride just as Dusk has”, she 
exclaimed poignantly. I looked into her eyes and saw a spark. She was 
exalted far beyond words. Only now did I realize to what extent Dusk 
and I really meant to her. I'd always known that our welfare and 
happiness were paramount for her but now it seemed as if we were 
literally the entire world to her. “Oh, and by the way”, she added, 
“I'm sure that Dusk misses you just as much as you miss him.” She gave 
me a doting glance, then turned and started heading off. “Mom”, I said. 
She halted and turned to look at me. “Thanks.” She smiled. I knew she 
was pleased with the discourse we just had.  I also felt somewhat 
jubilant and smiled back. She remained still for a while and then 
suavely ambled away. 

Everything was en regle, completely opposite of what I had felt less
than a day earlier. Then, while I was licking my paw clean from the 
dirt that had cohered to it, I shuddered grotesquely. A macabre pall 
cast upon me suddenly. It was some sort of premonition. I felt 
something terrible was going to happen. It wasn't just a bad feeling- 
it was much more tangible and acute. “Mom!” I vociferated fretfully. 
She appeared instantly at the opening of the den. I never figured out 
how she was always there for me. “What's wrong?” she asked in a worried 
voice. She had clearly sensed my plight. “Mom I... I have a really bad 
feeling about this”, I elucidated. “About what son?” she catechized. I 
frowned. “About... well... I'm not exactly sure.” She was dumbfounded 
by what I'd just said. I knew she wasn't thinking I was delirious but 
she obviously didn't understand. Frankly, you couldn't blame her. I 
myself wasn't sure I hadn't gone mad. “Were you sleeping?” she asked. 
“No, no mom it wasn't a dream!” I repined convictively. ‘I would've 
known; I'm not stupid', I thought. “Then...” before she could finish 
she realized that the sun was setting. She sighed, scrutinizing the 
imbroglio and said: “It's late, Spot.  You think you can pass the night 
and we'll talk about it tomorrow?” Her countenance was conveying 
promptness and patience. She didn't want me to feel compelled to oblige 
because of the fact that I knew it was time for her to search for food 
or sleep or whatever. It was so characteristic of her; this tremendous 
altruism, waiving her own comforts and necessities for the sake of 
mine. 'Come on Spot you're not a baby! Mom is so busy nurturing you 
impeccably all the time. Give her some respite. She certainly deserves 
it', I thought to myself. “Yea, it's OK mom”, I said. Inadvertently, it 
came out in a somewhat tentative tenor. “Spot- if you'd like, it's 
perfectly fine with me to discuss it now”, she offered. “It's not 
healthy to curb your feelings, especially not fear, you know”. “Mom, 
it's OK. I'm good. Really”, I reassured her fallaciously. “Just know 
that if you want, I'm always here for you. Always”, she said. “Thanks 
mom. I know. You're the best mom ever”, I endorsed. She pawed at me, 
smitten. I pawed back. Then she jauntily smacked me on the head and 
whisked away, giggling. This was my favorite game. Mom said it was 
helpful and that it hones some of my skills I would depend on in the 
future. Whatever... As long as I enjoyed it. I pretended that it hurt 
me and squealed. Mom did just what I'd hoped she would. She hurried 
back to see what had happened to me. This ruse wasn't new to her. I'd 
done it very often when we would play but I had no doubt that she 
wouldn't risk leaving me while I was in pain. It worked this time as 
usual. “Spot are you OK?” she queried, prostrated with the same anxiety 
she had been every time. I jumped up, startling her, nibbled on her 
ear, scampered in between her legs out of the den, and raced away as 
fast as my little legs would take me. Then I heard a whooping ROAR and 
flinched. Anon, I headed back to the den and to mom's protection as 
fast as I could. When I finally got to the den, I saw her rolling on 
the ground laughing. I was shocked at what I'd just seen. I was totally 
fooled by my seemingly guileless mother. But in fact, she was just as 
vulpine as she was loving. I couldn't suppress a narrow smile which, 
when mom jeered at me, in turn widened. After having a nice laugh we 
ventured out of the den to watch the moon. The vastness and desolation 
of the night's scenery reminded me of Dusk. “Mom. Do you think Dusk is 
OK out there?” I asked her. “I'm sure he is, Spot. And I'm also sure he 
wishes you were there with him”, she palliated. I sighed wistfully, 
thinking about him. She hugged me. I wanted it to last forever and 
wished that for just that second Dusk could see us. We barely ever did 
this- going out at night to watch the surroundings in the sable, 
wonderful night. The moon was so beautiful. It shed its light on the 
thousands of square miles of the Serengeti. Just being out there with 
my mom in this splendid natural profusion was invigorating and the only 
thing that subsided it was my mom's solicitous, tender voice uttering: 
“It's late. You better get some sleep, Spot. You have a big day 
tomorrow.” She accompanied me to the den, of course, and accentuated: 
“Tomorrow you set off on a new journey. A journey abound with new 
excitements and stimulations as well as hurdles on the way to 
discovering the outside world. I, and the entire pride, will still be 
there to protect you but notwithstanding; it's a big step toward 
adulthood. Good luck Spotty.” I looked into her deep blue eyes and saw 
everything that reflects the love of a mother to her son. The day was 
concluded by a short valediction and just as my mother left the den, 
that awful feeling from before struck me again. I had completely 
forgotten about it, but now it was even stronger than before. It felt 
as if somebody had pierced my heart with a knife. I endeavored to call 
my mom but fighting the pang was so straining that I couldn't, no 
matter how hard I'd tried, I just couldn't summon enough strength to 
emit any sort of sonance that my mom would have  a chance of hearing. 
Then, abruptly, the pain dissipated. My heart was still pounding 
hectically, the terror still present. I lay down, trying to compose 
myself. But I was completely forspent. Without warning, my heavy 
eyelids closed and I was sound asleep. I don't know how much time had 
passed between when I had fallen asleep and when I woke up to the sound 
of an uproarious BANG! There was a short pause and then again: BANG! I 
muffled my ears with my paws. BANG! BANG BANG BANG! BANG BANG BANG 
BANG! BANG! I was paralyzed with terror. I knew that that plaguy noise 
had come from somewhere in the vicinity of the den. Trembling, I hoped 
mom would come and tell me everything was alright. All I wanted was to 
go back to sleep. “Oh no”, I soliloquized. “What if mom is hurt?” That 
contingency induced me to muster up enough courage to get out of the 
den and find out what had happened. I took a long breath, shut my eyes 
and slowly ambulated outside. I opened them, looked left. Nothing was 
there. I felt slightly relieved. And then I spun my head to the right. 
That same knife that I'd felt being plunged into my heart before was 
now turning, twisting, and boring deeper and deeper until it came out 
through the other side. I was vanquished to the nth degree by 
inexpressible dismay. The angst permeating my entire body was 
inexorable, as if everything I had ever valued had just disappeared. I 
felt I was about to burst. My whole body ached. The entire pride, 
including mom, was lying inertly on the ground, blood gushing out from 
each and every one of its members. I was petrified. Before I could 
move, tears began spurting down my cheeks adamantly. I tried to run to 
my mom but my legs wouldn't let me. Instead, I treaded toward her 
provisionally, daunted. Horrified. When I reached her, glancing at her 
wound, I realized the blood was emanating from a small, round source. 
Maybe somebody had fought the pride. But the noises from outside. Those 
ear splitting, dreadful noises. Where had they come from? What had 
caused this terrible disaster? “Spot”, I heard my mom susurrate. She 
was at the threshold of death. “Mom! What...” I trailed off, crying 
again. This time when I looked into her eyes they were different than 
before. Enervated. Void. Azoic. I realized I was going to loose her. 
The ground beneath me was already marshy from my tears. Her fur was not 
the usual bright, elegant brown but a sullen, crude, bloodstained 
darkness. Her breathing was obstructed. She looked at me vapidly, 
smiling a bitter smile in a feeble attempt to lift my spirit, but it 
only magnified the hole in my heart. She was using the last of her 
powers to tell me something. “Find him”, she drawled in a soft rasp. 
“Find who?” I asked, befuddled. I was panting frantically and my words 
came out in a blur. “He went east. Follow the trail” she crepitated 
decadently. “Run.” "Mom don't... don't...” I trailed off again. The 
tears just kept coming and flowing. "Ad astra per aspera", she 
muttered. “Goodbye Spotty”. She raised her paw and tried to touch me 
for the last time. But she didn't have the power to. Her head slouched 
to the ground. She was dead. “Mom”, I wailed desperately. “Mooom! 
Noooo.” My heart became heavy. The world suddenly seemed sable to me, a 
place devoid of anything precious; nothing but egregious bleakness. My 
mom had been everything to me, just like I was to her, and now she was 
gone. I felt that my life had become futile. What did that mean- ad 
astra per aspera? I couldn't fathom it. Was she implying anything? 
Should I have done something with it? My only desideratum was to stay 
right there next to her, even if it were only her body, devoid of her 
spirit. Suddenly, I heard a crackling of leaves to my right. My eyes 
damp, my soul mutilated, I turned my head and descried two ominous, 
queer figures scrambling down an adjacent tree. I could only make out 
their contours in the murkiness of night. I'd never seen any creature 
like them. They were standing on two legs, they were rather tall and... 
Then it struck me. My mom had told me about these creatures. She said I 
must be extremely cautious if I ever encounter them. She'd said they 
were heinous, malevolent, savage killers. They had killed my mom, these 
despotic monsters. My woe instantly reverted into fury. Conspicuous, 
implacable fury. But there was absolutely nothing I could do. They were 
much larger than I was and they overtly possessed some ultimate power 
if they had been able to eradicate the entire pride, let alone from 
such a great distance. “Eradicate the pride.” When I thought about that 
phrase, the dole I had suffered escalated, and again the tears began 
trickling. I had learned over time that heeding my mom and following 
her instructions and suggestions was the best thing to do. I had never 
oppugned her sagacity and experience and wasn't going to start now. 
Thus, despite my relentless volition to avenge my mother's, and the 
entire pride's, death, I knew I had to hide as fast as I could so I 
would retain a chance of staying alive. I saw a kopje that if I could 
reach, the diabolic creatures would never see me in. So I headed 
towards it, careful yet striving to reach it as swiftly as I could. 

Chapter 2 

I started tiptoeing toward the rocky knoll. I had already passed half
the way. I looked for the two killers, but they were gone. A jumble of 
thoughts went through my mind. I shivered. I didn't know if they had 
left or perhaps spotted me and were about to assail me as well. I 
slightly picked up my pace. That was a mistake. My paw hit a rock, 
causing it to hurtle forward and crash into the ground with a thud. I 
froze, heeding vigilantly for any sematic sign. Nothing but the 
resonant chirping of the crickets. Just as I was about to keep on 
going, I heard a loud double-clank from behind and, startled, darted as 
fast as I could to the lee of the kopje. BANG! The morbid sonance from 
before, the one that had killed my family, was now after me. But I was 
still on the hoof, still running hectically. I felt something, some 
cryptic object flitting right next to my face, whisking off a pittance 
of fur from my cheek. Had it been a paw to the right, I assume my fate 
would've met that of my mom's immediately. Why couldn't she've had my 
luck? I finally reached the kopje but I could hear footsteps behind me, 
getting louder and louder. Once they will have reached the kopje, I 
thought, that would be the end of the line for me. I looked around me. 
I had nowhere to go. I was trapped. I was frazzled. Everything that had 
happened lately, the grief it piqued, the consternation; they had all 
debilitated me saliently and now it was all about to end. Pondering the 
situation, I was surprisingly rather unappalled by the fact that I was 
about to die. I'd always dreaded death and sometimes I'd even had 
nightmares about it. But mom had always been there to make me feel 
better. Had. I guess her death changed all that. I was prepared to 
launch an attack at my pursuers, though I knew my chances were slim. 
There was no other way out of it. I bared my teeth and squatted, 
assuming a posture of attack.  My heart pulsated frenetically. In 
seconds I would either retaliate my mother's death or, more likely, be 
killed in just the same manner she had. Then, unawares, I felt a paw 
grasp me from the back, its nails sinking into my flesh. It jerked me 
into a small cave, a somewhat recondite cave that I oddly hadn't 
previously spotted. “Oww...” I started squealing due to the pain 
inflicted by the acute nails still sunken in my back, just as a second 
paw from behind gagged me. “Be quiet or they'll here us!” I heard an 
unfamiliar voice jabber in a crackle. Pending as to who was in that 
cave with me and how I should act, I extemporaneously bit the paw 
gagging me and cocked my left paw, ready to thrash at the other one 
which was still hooked onto my back. But before I could clamp my 
intention, my eyes caught one of the hunters' feet right outside the 
cave. They seemed to be distrait of the presence of the cave, just like 
I had been. I remained totally quiescent and silent. Again I was 
saturated with fear and anger. It didn't take long until they had left, 
or at least were out of sight from within the cave. I was relieved, 
perhaps consoled, once again noticing the vehement twinges in my back. 
"Stand still", that same voice ordered. Whatever it was, I thought, it 
had saved my life. So I tried not to be too fractious and docilely held 
still as instructed. Avidly, the paw that had grabbed my back was 
yanked away in a flash. For a second the pain had augmented but it 
whittled off eventually. I turned around to finally find out who it was 
with me in the cave- who it was that had rescued me. In front of me 
stood, staring, another Lion that I presumed was a little older than I 
was since it was larger. His fur was darker than mine was and his eyes 
were brown, seemingly intense. His face glared with zeal. As I was 
observing the rest of the details, one prominent feature caught my 
eyes. On his right paw, there was a white fleck, clearly distinguished 
from the rest of his brown body. There was only one Lion who had that 
same white dapple- Dusk! Could this be Dusk?' I deliberated. Then 
again, there was no chance it was my beloved brother, not unless we 
were living in a movie. Besides the uncanny serendipity required, Dusk 
was nothing like this creature in front of me. The size, Dusk's jutting 
bones and the general mien were nothing alike between the two. In 
addition, this one didn't have the slightest sign of a mane, whereas 
Dusk's mane was already ostensible. My hopes dispelled. “Um, that was 
close, ha?” the unfamiliar Lion asked in what seemed to me more like an 
attempt to bond. And considering the tribulation I had earlier 
experienced, bonding sounded rather opportune. “Yea”, I answered 
tepidly, again submerged in woe and unable to picture anything but my 
mom reaching but incapable of touching me. My eyes dampened again and I 
could barely see my rescuer twitching his face in empathy. I closed 
them, took a deep breath and uttered in a low, soft voice: “thanks 
for...” “It's ok”, the other one responded. “We were really lucky 
there. I'm sorry your family wasn't.” I'd managed to control my tears 
but couldn't think of anything to say. Frankly, I didn't feel like 
saying anything either. Obviously. “What's your name?” He wondered. 
“Spot”, I rejoined plaintively. “I'm Koppie”, he introduced. “What kind 
of a name is Koppie for a Lion?” I asked phlegmatically. “Oh, I'm no 
Lion!” He remonstrated. I observed him carefully, attentive to every 
single detail. If not a Lion what else could this creature be? A 
Cheetah? No, the head was too big. Leopard? Nope, his fur was smooth, 
spotless. It certainly wasn't a Hyena and by the size and shape of his 
claws and his teeth, he was undoubtedly a predator. Unless Tigers or 
Jaguars decided they want to move in, this whippersnapper was 
definitely a Lion! Did he think I was some kind of an ignoramus? “Then 
what are you?” I snapped incredulously. “I'm a Lioness”, he replied 
pridefully. She. She replied pridefully. For some reason, I was 
surprised it was a female. She seemed to have noticed it and smiled. 
Her smile reminded me of my mom's. That chaste, reassuring smile. The 
smile that once used to soothe me every time I was out of sorts. Now, I 
was dourer than ever, but that smile was no longer there to subside it. 
It was gone forever. Koppie gazed at me leniently. “You and your mom 
were really close, ha?” She asked. “We always used to be together”, I 
replied reminiscently. “Her and my brother, Dusk.” “Was he 
also...um...” She didn't want to sound incongruous. But I knew what she 
was implying. “No, no”, I said. “He'd left our den recently, just 
barely before this happened. It really hurt when he'd left, but now I'm 
grateful that he did.” Suddenly, Dusk's departure did feel like a 
blessing. Koppie lowered her head and looked at the ground. There was 
nothing there though. “What happened to you?” I queried, suddenly 
noticing that she had seemed somewhat aloof of the death of the pride. 
“A long time ago, my mother had contracted an eldritch, insidious 
disease and I took care of her along with my brother.” She sighed 
hesitantly and continued: “Eventually, the disease became ingravescent 
and there was nothing we could've done. My brother had taken care of me 
and taught me the survival skills he had acquired from our mom, being 
aware of the fact that one day I might find myself unexpectedly 
independent. He was right. He was forced to leave at a young age; I 
don't exactly know why- he'd mentioned something about being expelled 
by older males. I pleaded him to take me but he said it was too 
dangerous and made sure that one of the females of the pride would look 
after me. She went through with it devoutly even after she'd had cubs 
of her own. In fact, I helped her nurture them and it was as if it were 
my real family.” I could see a tear running down her face. “Don't let 
my face mislead you. Deep inside I've been torn apart by these 
atrocious human beings. This callousness is belying my true feelings.” 
Right- human being. That's what mom had called them. She'd said if I'd 
be lucky I wouldn't come across them at all throughout my entire life. 
It'd seemed questionable back then, but not anymore... Her situation 
actually resembled mine remarkably. Nevertheless, she had managed to 
subdue her feelings. She seemed to have very strong character. When I 
looked into her eyes, they were again serene, as if everything was 
normal. Then, an encumbering silence cast upon us. Again I felt 
deserted and forlorn. I still hadn't been able to imbibe the fact that 
I would never see my mom again. I was too devastated to think clearly 
and just then had I realized that I had nobody to depend on or to teach 
me to fend for myself anymore. No one except for Koppie. While I was 
mooning about all this, Koppie was devising a plan. Once she caught my 
eyes, she heralded rather casually: “We must spend the rest of the 
night here- it seems a relatively safe place and we sure could use a 
rest after what we've been through. Tomorrow at dusk, we'll start 
searching for a different pride which, with luck, will allow us to join 
it. The sooner we leave, the better our chances are of finding a Lion 
pride before another kind of pride finds us. What do you say?” She 
benevolently proffered. I cogitated for a while and acquiesced in 
Koppie's plan, although many of its elements were abstruse to me. “What 
do you mean another kind of pride?” I asked confoundedly. “I mean a 
pride of predators that aren't Lions. Actually, even if we're fortunate 
enough to find a Lion pride, the chances are they'll kill us or oust us 
from their territory. I know it doesn't sound especially appealing, but 
it's the best shot we have”, she expounded misanthropically. Indeed, it 
didn't seem very promising to me, at least not the way she had 
presented it, but since I had no idea what we could do, I went along. 
Furthermore, Koppie did seem to possess a keen acumen and perception of 
nature. I had to trust her. It had proved itself before... “Well”, she 
interrupted my ruminating. “What do you say?” “Whatever you say is fine 
with me”, I replied jejunely. ‘No. That doesn't sound right.' “That 
didn't come out right”, I corrected myself. “You've proven that you 
know what you're doing and I don't have a clue as to what we should do. 
Your idea seems sensible and prudent, so I agree with you. I trust 
you.” She beamed and said: “what do you say we get some sleep? I'm 
exhausted.” I was wearily exasperated too and nodded. “Thanks”, I said, 
recumbent. She just shot another warm smile at me. “Good night, Spot”. 
“Night Koppie.” 

I was standing outside. It was still dark. The only light came from the
gleaming moon above me. How did I get here? I thought. Everything was 
still and silent. All the creatures of the day were still asleep. A 
light breeze passed a chill down my back. It felt somewhat annealing to 
be alone. I sat down and glanced around. The allurement of the feral 
landscape hadn't withered during the night. The moonlight shattering 
the darkness created a shimmering amalgam of colors augmented by the 
brilliant star constellations. The occasional gusts of wind broke the 
silence along with the crickets' mellifluous calls. I took a deep 
breath, inhaling air saturated with vigor and freedom. “Spot”, a 
cavernous voice thereupon chanted. Dazed, I turned around to the 
direction from which it had originated. But I couldn't see anyone. 
“Koppie?” I asked, not expecting to be answered. It just felt like 
something else, some sort of empyreal impetus. ‘This is ridiculous', I 
thought to myself. It was probably just my imagination. It was late; I 
thought I'd better go back to the hollow. As I headed back, I halted 
anon at what I heard. That same uncanny voice uttered: “Find him, 
Spotty.” A tear ran down my face. I knew who it was. It was mom. My 
throat clogging up, I turned around. But nobody was there once more. 
“Mom”, I ululated desperately. I spun my head overwroughtingly, unable 
to find her. “Go east, Spotty. Hurry”, she adjured. “Mom! 
Where...what...” I was downright inebriated and could not connect two 
words together. I'd missed her so much. “I love you, Spot. Goodbye”, 
she pronounced supernally. “Mom!” I squalled. “Mom! Mooooom!” I didn't 
know what to say. I couldn't comprehend what was going on. Mom was... 
she was dead. Perhaps it really was some empyreal force. I felt as if 
my mind had shrunk. I wasn't thinking. Empyreal? Although I was one 
hundred percent sure that it had been mom, I refused to believe that, 
well, I don't exactly know what it was that I didn't believe- I didn't 
have any explanation whatsoever for it. ‘Follow him', an inner voice 
within me repeated. I realized that mom had told me that exact same 
thing before she died. It was abstruse to me at first, just like it had 
been the first time. I suspired. It came to me rather obviously. It was 
Dusk that mom urged me to follow. And she said that he had gone east. 
Deliberately, I trekked back toward the den. ‘Hurry', the inner voice 
instructed. ‘If mom said hurry, I'll hurry', I said to myself. I picked 
up my pace and reached the cave only to find out that it was empty. 
Koppie wasn't there. Alarmed, I scanned the small cave for any trace of 
her. But there was nothing. At least nothing that I could see. The cave 
was dark and troglodytic. I caught something in the air. Some mephitic 
odor. And then I saw someone entering the cave. Moving slowly, 
cautiously. I kept silent; my heart beating anxiously, until realizing 
it was Koppie, a young Impala dangling from her mouth. I guess the look 
on my face must have been grotesque. Koppie simpered impishly and 
dropped the Impala. “I still haven't touched it. I've left it for you”, 
she said. My eyes widened in shock of Koppie's offer. She was actually 
going to eat that poor creature! Maybe I couldn't preclude that, but I 
certainly wasn't going to partake in this act of iniquity. “What's the 
matter?” she wondered debauchedly. She was bona fide incognizant of the 
depravity of what she was doing. “Have you gone mad?” I ranted. “I 
can't believe you did that to this wretched creature.” She was overtly 
both surprised and indignant. With a piercing scowl, she recriminated: 
“How do you expect us to survive? By eating rocks? Or even better, we 
can just eat one another! And by the way, I didn't kill him. I went 
outside to search for food and found it. It was already half eaten. 
It's just great to get such a warm gratitude.” Perhaps I had been 
slightly insolent and should've thought before I'd aspersed her. On the 
other hand, I'd been positive that Koppie had killed that baby Impala 
before she apprised me otherwise. Why would anybody else kill it, let 
alone leave it revealed and unguarded? Actually, I knew why somebody 
would kill it. Every adult, including my mom, survived by eating other 
animals. Lions were strictly meat-eaters. But I wasn't an adult! And 
there was no way I was going to eat any living creature! I was 
undeterred about that. As I was figuring all that out, Koppie had dug 
into the young Impala's flesh and expeditiously consumed it entirely, 
omitting only the heavily blood-stained bones. I watched with 
revulsion. By the time she cleared the cave of the residue of the 
bones, my hunger, which I hitherto hadn't noticed, had dispelled. 
‘Maybe I have been impudent', I thought. ‘I should apologize to Koppie. 
Even if I was right, such an ebullition was unequivocally exaggerated'. 
I just hoped that she'd let it go. Thereupon, I realized that Koppie 
had been outside for too long. Something must be keeping her, I 
thought. Keeping my nose to the wind, I stepped out of the cave and saw 
that the bones were lying outside, but Koppie was not in the vicinity. 
I caught a distant glimpse of her proceeding to the opposite direction 
of the cave. I supposed she was merely upset about my hasty 
exhortation. I wanted to atone for it but I thought it'd be better to 
let her regain her composure. I was certain that she would. As it 
turned out, I had been wrong. 

I woke up early the next morning. Groggy, I shut my eyes as I reeled
outside to avoid the sun's incandescent glare. As my eyes were 
adjusting, I stretched with a crackle from my bones. It took me a while 
to perceive the situation, as if my memories had been obnubilated by 
the night. But once I regained my wit, I wished that I hadn't. Along 
with the memories came the excruciating pang and torment. Images of my 
mom shot through my mind. My head drooped heavily, my whole body 
following. Lying down, I sensed the renewed pain in my back, that same 
pain I had felt the day before. The pain from... Koppie. I finally 
discerned that she wasn't in the den. No, she definitely hadn't been 
there when I'd woken up. I tried to recollect when and where I'd seen 
her last. The last time I saw her was last night, I remembered. And she 
was walking away from the den. I put two and two together... Again, I 
was alone. And for what? Because of an asinine, petty fight. It wasn't 
even a fight. In fact, it was nothing but a mere discrepancy. I was 
going to apologize- I realized that I had been wrong. Nevertheless, she 
also blew it out of proportions. The whole thing was a misunderstanding 
and she just ran off. Maybe I'd be better off without her anyway, I 
thought. If she made such a fuss about every trifling squabble, we 
would never get along. Frustrated yet motivated, I cast the die to 
embark on my lonesome journey to seek Dusk, an odyssey my life solely 
relied on. 

Chapter 3 

When Koppie woke up, she heard the sound of breathing from somewhere in
her proximity. During the erstwhile night, she had been extremely 
lucky. While she was sanitizing her meal's leftovers from the cave, a 
Hyena had come forth as if from nowhere, chasing her fiercely. She knew 
enough to be pessimistic and anticipate a hopefully quick, painless 
death. Despite the scanty chances, though, she had to fight. Since the 
calamity in which she had lost her family, her whole life was bound to 
be an arduous fight, which would often seem lost, as in this case. If 
she had attempted to return to the den, she would've imperiled Spot. 
And although now she was alone and had no idea where she was, she was 
positive that she'd made the right choice not putting her alter ego in 
danger. Amazingly, as if being rewarded for sparing Spot the precipice 
of an obstinate predator after the both of them, she had succeeded to 
come upon a vacant den- probably constructed by some small mammal that 
later abandoned it- which was Lilliputian enough to debar the Hyena's 
entrance; precisely what it had been designed to do by its constructor. 
This boosted her chances to evade the mighty predator significantly and 
somewhat suprisingly. Nonetheless, the Hyena wasn't going to capitulate 
so easily. It inserted its paw into the wee lair, its ferine claws 
splay, and swatted at Koppie menacingly, still not giving up. But 
thanks to agile maneuvering, Koppie suffered no more than some minor 
scratches on her front paws, nothing a bit of rest wouldn't heal. She'd 
survived! She wasn't sure that by now she could already march on, but 
she had to try. As she drifted toward the opening of the den, the 
breathing became more emphatic. Now she noticed it, and pricked up her 
ears in alarm. It hadn't bothered her before, but she finally discerned 
the grotesquery of the fact that the Hyena had earlier forsaken its 
prima facie facile hunt when chasing her, for no apparent reason. Thus, 
she halted at once, her injured paw sore. Analyzing the situation 
judiciously, she ended up with two possibilities: either the Hyena 
intended to string her along and attack her when she was least 
expecting it or, more credibly, that it was driven away by another 
animal and that animal was now lying down outside the cave. If the 
latter was true, it had to be a Lion or a formidable group of some 
other large predators- as Hyenas, she knew, were strong, audacious 
creatures who stood their ground and weren't readily rebuked. Either 
way, she was badly off. 

Spot kept wondering about what his mother meant when she'd said “Ad
astra aspera”, peregrinating along the path she had mentioned, the path 
witch was supposed to lead him to his brother. She also told him to go 
east. And he knew that east is where the sun keeps tarrying. So he just 
followed it determinedly, striving to keep all the thoughts about his 
mom aside. After toiling up mountains, lumbering on kindled soil and 
stemming myriad sand storms, all under the searing sun, he had to find 
water. His throat was so arid, he had even thought about finding one of 
those creatures like Koppie had the other night and eating it. But he 
knew that he had to segue on through thick and thin until he would find 
his lifelong brother. The chance he would not succeed in doing so was 
substantial, but he had no other choice. As he was laboring over 
another knoll, he spotted a dapple of blue among the marvelous green 
vastness attended by a few Zebras- probably some young male outcasts 
who happened to coincide near this waterhole, looking for a herd whose 
dominant male was decrepit or flaccid enough for one of them to 
supersede it. Their composure and tolerance toward one another were 
rather surprising... Wait a minute. A water hole! They were congregated 
around a water hole! He was so manic that he forgot completely about 
all he had been thinking about and indomitably dashed toward the blue 
desideratum. Not seeing how the land lies, he approached the water hole 
and the Zebras zealously, until being confronted by a startling bleat 
from one of the herbivores. Spot halted in a trice, sensing the Zebra's 
intention to warn him. He stood still until all three of them turned 
their heads away and continued to quaff. Despite the perilous 
condition, he recrudesced carefully, constantly inspecting the Zebras' 
faces in order to detect any sort of sudden movement which could 
indicate bellicosity. ‘OK, they're calming down', he thought to 
himself. ‘I wonder what startled them.' He repudiated the possibility 
of him being the source of their inaugural fear. After all, even if 
they hadn't known that his only prospect was to imbibe some water after 
time out of mind, he was nothing but a young cub; even if he did wish 
to, there was no way he was capable of taking down a grown Zebra. A few 
more strides and he would at long last quench his insatiable thirst. 
But the tension, he felt, was increasing as he reached “attacking 
distance” from the three Zebras, who were standing vigilantly on the 
other end of the vestigial water hole. As he bore down on it, he 
realized that not only was it small in diameter, but it was extremely 
shallow. Perhaps the reason the Zebras had been perturbed by his 
presence was simply that there wasn't enough water to go around. But no 
matter all these deterrents; he had to satiate his swelling thirst. 
When his tongue touched the water, he felt relieved and reanimated. He 
kept gulping in as much as he could, the crystalline water rippling, 
when suddenly the Zebras cocked their ears one after the other. They 
seemed to have been alarmed by something. He raised his head and 
searched for any sign of danger, but there were none. His heart began 
racing even though it appeared to him that nothing had changed. There 
was complete silence and the Zebras themselves remained stagnant. Even 
their eyes were riveted on a certain spot, he noticed curiously. He 
followed the direction of their glances and it took him a minute to 
notice the spectacle that had drawn their attention so stringently. 
When he encountered it, he found the entire occurrence somewhat outré. 
In front of them, stealthily shambling closer was a stout, fierce 
looking Cheetah, stooping down to conceal himself in the surrounding 
tall grass. Spot was nonplussed by the fact that the Zebras had 
descried the menacing Cheetah from such a great distance. The ferocious 
predator was well camouflaged between the untramelled weeds and had 
been extremely wary not to provoke the Zebras' attention, but haplessly 
(for the Cheetah), it was upwind, which gave it away to their 
well-honed olfaction. Moreover, the rainy season had left its marks on 
the terrain and each and every step in the vicinity of a body of water, 
even one of a light and agile animal such as the nimble Cheetah, would 
emit distinctive slushing sounds. As a result, the cat's chances of 
making a successful hunt were slim. Under these conditions, any 
predator would more likely take advantage of the commodious bounty 
rather than risk an injury when attacking a large, robust animal such 
as each of the Zebras. All in all, the Zebras were rather safe and thus 
didn't flee once they'd perceived the Cheetah's presence. Spot watched 
intently as the Zebras kept gawking at the approaching predator. 
Suddenly, the Cheetah crouched lower and sallied forward like a flash, 
its limbs extending with every giant leap. Now, the line had been 
crossed as far as the Zebras were concerned, and all three flung 
distressfully to the opposite direction of the speeding Cheetah. 
Despite their considerable head start, the feline was gaining on the 
Zebras rapidly. Now scattered, the Zebras whizzed tempestuously for 
their lives, each heading to a different direction. Spot hearkened to 
the occurrence with vicarious emotion to the innocent Zebras. ‘They 
don't deserve this', he thought. ‘They're just innocent, chaste 
animals.' Besides, why hadn't the Cheetah chased him? He surely 
wouldn't have escaped this time. But instead of wandering off again, he 
knew he should make the most of the waterhole so long as it was clear 
and he was its only occupant. He didn't know how long it would be 
before some other territorial or imperious animal would appear and 
usurp his accessibility to the water. Surely, he would gladly forgo 
another encounter with a predator. He hoped the Zebras had made it and 
hadn't succumbed to the Cheetah's ferocity and strength. As he finished 
swilling from the waterhole, he peered at the sky and discerned that 
the sun was high up in it, which denoted that the temperature was 
apical. As straining as trudging up to now was, it would be twice as 
grueling now that the sun posed another cumbrance. It would definitely 
be too much for him to recrudesce in this sizzling heat. Therefore, he 
settled in his mind to rest, at least until the heat would subside. He 
lay down under the shade of an immense Ailanthus tree, its green, 
feathery flowers blossoming flamboyantly. Soon enough, his eyelids 
became heavy and he unwittingly fell asleep. 

Spot's fur rippled in the mild gale as he woke up shivering. He had just
dreamt about the two humans who had killed his mother, this time 
chasing Dusk and him. He tried to help his brother, but to no avail- 
whenever he bestired at the two murderers, one of them would kick him 
back and each time he would somehow land on his head, until he was too 
groggy to get up. His feeble attempts to defend himself would only 
spawn bloodcurdling laughter from the humans. Meanwhile, Dusk stood 
inertly, paralyzed, and stared impassively at Spot. “Dusk! They're 
going to kill us! You have to do something!” He pleaded despairingly. 
But Dusk didn't move. He stood still, silent, lifeless. They were now 
cornered and had nowhere to turn their tail to. Spot swiveled his head 
quickly, transferring his glance from his brother to the two and back. 
The two humans were now approaching them as they cringed, as if they 
were palsied. That was how the dream had ended. ‘This fear from those 
malevolent, opprobrious creatures is etched on my soul', he knew. 
‘Forever.' He plodded back to the water hole and lapped up some more 
water. He saw his morose face reflected by the water. Memories of his 
mom resurfaced once more, of their last moments together. But he took 
in his stride to quash his tears this time and strived to concentrate 
on the continuation of his quest. Suddenly, he heard a growl from 
behind. An ominous, raving growl. Slowly, he turned around and beheld 
in front of him a Hyena standing erect, baring its teeth raveningly, a 
rapacious countenance on its face. The Hyena's typical sloping of the 
back conveyed a lumbering look, augmented by the shortness of its hind 
legs compared to its front, muscular forelegs. Its hide was brown-gray, 
blotched with black spots. Nerves all shot, Spot receded obsequiously 
as if to grant the sinewy Hyena superiority and averted his glance from 
the Hyena hoping it would disregard him. Of course, he was evidently no 
match for the Hyena, which could easily dispatch him, although a grown 
Lion would be capable of coping with four or even five such creatures. 
Hyenas always seemed to Spot as macabre, malicious creatures. 
Nevertheless, it was sheer prejudice that conferred his impression. The 
Hyena's slovenly spotted skin and its angular mien caused him to 
extrapolate on its character. In fact, his general notion of the Hyenas 
was distinctly perverted, as Hyenas, except for their remarkable 
stamina, are devout parents and live in complex social structures 
within their clans. Within such clans there is a clear hierarchal 
ranking. There is one dominant female in a clan and the others are in a 
lower rank. Amongst the lower ranked Hyenas there is also a certain 
ranking. The higher the status of the mother, the higher the chances of 
her cubs of surviving. Each clan possesses and defends a territory 
usually including several tens of square miles. Usually, the lower 
ranked females dig their cubs' den away from the center of the clan, 
where the higher ranked females' dens are, to avoid the danger of 
clashes and perishing of their cubs.  During the wet season, food is 
plenty and all females can hunt easily within the clan's territory, but 
when the dry season arrives and the food is scarce, frequently only the 
dominant female hunts within the territory and others, mostly the lower 
ranked females, must roam through long distances before returning to 
the clan and their own den, where the cubs await another meal. Spot 
strived to maintain a casual respiration rate in order to enshroud his 
agitation and dread. His only interest was that the Hyena would remain 
occupied and to avoid an unforeseen turn of events, in which the Hyena 
could change its mind about letting him go. Cautiously, he eventually 
managed to slink away from the Hyena's sight and once he was safe, he 
soughed in relief. His tongue lolled out so he could regain his breath. 
 His heart, for the who-knows-what time in the last couple of days, 
still pounded in maelstrom. There were so many perils lurking in every 
nook and cranny, so many obstacles and snags to surmount on the way to 
finding his brother. Even without them, it would be hard enough finding 
Dusk, considering the fact that he'd used to be quite an itinerant 
whelp who never lingered in one place. Spot remembered the nights when 
Dusk was still a cub, in which they often sneaked out of the den and 
talked for hours. There were nights in which they wouldn't sleep at 
all. All they did was lie on their backs, staring at the sky 
promiscuously, carefree, loitering away the night. On one occasion, 
they squirmed out of the den to drink from the nearby pond. As the 
previous day had been rainy, the ground was lubricious and Spot 
remissly fell into the water. He was very young at the time and 
couldn't swim. In spite of that, Dusk loafed about, shirking calling 
their mom. Spot had endeavored to call him, but he began fluctuating in 
and out of the water, unable to open his mouth. Then, the water 
splashed boisterously as Dusk plunged into the water and swam 
pertinaciously toward Spot. Soon he reached him, raised him above the 
water so he could take a breath, and waded back. They both clambered 
back to the ground soaking, and skittered back to the den to warm up. 
“What took you so long to save me?” Spot queried with an arch smile. “I 
was going to call mom immediately when you fell, but I figured we'd be 
in for it and besides, who knows how long it would be before I'd find 
mom. And you know how hard it is to wake her up”. They both chuckled 
before he continued. “So, I decided to jump in myself. Look at the mess 
you got me into”, Dusk protested puerilely. Spot tackled him and they 
rolled on the mud, smudging their fur. But they didn't mind. They had 
each other to deal with mom's homilies and get through everything 
together. That was the most important thing. Spot had been so immersed 
in this reverie that the Birds' chirping which woke him up created a 
whole new world. At first he wasn't sure what had happened- these 
reminiscences being so intense- but in due time it came back to him; 
their maturing, Dusk leaving the den, the reprobate death of his mom, 
the beginning of his journey, the close call from the Hyena. And 
Koppie. He had forgotten her in toto since the previous night, since 
their galling quarrel. But that didn't matter now. They'd gone their 
separate ways and he would have to do this by himself. Or so he 
thought. Be it that, he could sure use some company and perhaps her 
conversance about life in the wild. ‘Whatever', he thought. ‘I can do 
just fine without her', he tried to convince himself although deep 
inside he doubted it. He looked around him. Ethereal allurement 
encompassed him. From his well located vintage point, he espied a herd 
of Elephants. A little to the left, a herd of Impalas, the ram 
sentinelling ‘his' females. Tens of Birds perched on the luxuriant 
trees, including a baleful African Crown Eagle, the most powerful of 
Africa's Eagles. Only one adult was present in the robust nest. That 
most likely imported the presence of a young chick as well and that the 
male was off hunting. The adjacent group of Monkeys was fortifying 
itself accordingly, as these amazingly puissant Birds fed mainly on 
primates. At the horizon, he caught a glimpse of the water hole, 
attended by a few Flamingos dipping their beaks in the water, perhaps 
hoping to catch some Fish for a wee meal. By simply staring at a 
certain direction he could view an innumerable amount of species. It 
was not seldom that Spot unwound for some time and out-and-out relished 
these enchanting sights. Once, he used to slur over these everyday, 
seemingly routine panoramas, until one day his mom submitted: “Don't be 
like that. Look into everything just a little more profoundly and you 
will surely divulge a whole new world in front of you. Maybe it seems 
to you right now that nothing unusual is going on, but in fact all 
around you extraordinary things are happening all the time. If you just 
try to detect them, your world will expand and become much more 
interesting.”  And gorgeous. As always, she had been right. Her death, 
as heart breaking as it was, had instilled in him an unwavering sense 
of independence, of maturity. In all this dismal chaos, there was one 
ray of light which he took pleasure in. This feeling of 
self-sufficiency, of being competent to fend for himself. However, his 
grief far exceeded this trivial satisfaction. Furthermore, he hadn't 
yet dealt with any substantial obstruction he would incontrovertibly 
face in the future. The day-to-day life in the wild abounds with such 
obstructions, and although he wasn't aware of it, he couldn't cope with 
them solus. He had to persist in his mission before it was too dark. He 
looked up at the sky and followed the direction of the sun. ‘That's 
weird', he reflected. It appeared as if the direction of the sun 
saliently resembled the path which he had taken earlier, before he saw 
the water hole. He double-checked the location of the sun, verifying 
that it admittedly was where he'd thought it was. “Well”, he dithered. 
“East is east”, he decided, and re-embarked on his onerous journey. As 
he was pondering the ongoing similarity between the landscapes he was 
seeing now and those he'd seen before the encounter with the Hyena, he 
heard a screeching squeal from ahead. It sounded juxtaposed. “Uh-oh”, 
he phonated. He wasn't assertive as to whether he should find out 
what's going on or for once keep a distance. Eventually, as usual, he 
was overwhelmed by his curiosity and kept going. Before long, the 
source of the squeal was revealed. It was an Eland, Africa's largest 
Antelope. Its imposing, ornate spiraled horns were slightly erosed, 
which indicated that it had probably lost in a battle over a group of 
females to another male. It made sense, in light of the fact that it 
was now companionless. Its dark brown fur was shaggy and splattered 
with mud. It was struggling deliriously to extricate itself from 
something, but Spot had no idea what it was. It seemed to be grappling 
with the air. No, it was something else. It was sinking. Sinking! But 
it was standing on sand just like Spot was. Spot came nearer to obtain 
a better view of the scene. Once the Eland spotted him, it desisted to 
scuffle, gaping at him. Spot froze as well, puzzled. Why did that 
abject Eland suddenly cease to fight whatever it was fighting? Both of 
them remained quiescent for a while. Then, Spot took a wavering step 
forward. Immediately, the Antelope resumed its frenzied struggle. And 
it began sinking once more. Spot was abstracted at first of the fact 
that when the Eland held still, it virtually stopped sinking, and as it 
renewed its wrestling, the sinking precipitated. But now, when the mud 
was up to its neck, he noticed it. He wished he could do something to 
aid the effete Eland but he knew it was already too late. As the faint 
creature was sucked in by the mud, Spot looked away. He had long been 
frazzled both physically and mentally from having to undergo so many 
unpalatable occurrences, especially that everything was happening to 
him for the first time. By the same token, he now faced another 
predicament- finding a way to elude what had killed the eland. ‘The 
ground! I have to elude the ground!' he thought. “OK, quit being 
cynical”, he reprimanded himself out loud as if to countermand his 
thought emphatically. So far, he owed his life more to his luck than to 
his mind. First the humans almost getting him, then the cheetah 
occupied by the Zebras, and even the Hyena which ignored him. This time 
he couldn't rely on the smiles of fortune. It was undividedly incumbent 
upon him to act prudently in order to ensure his survival, at least for 
now. Somehow, he had to contrive to circumvent the area that had 
ensnared the eland. Of course, this would be much harder to implement 
since he didn't know what exactly it was that he had to avoid. All he 
saw when the eland had been hauled down was the ground wobbling. And 
that imparted nothing useful to him- just the same, the eland could've 
disappeared into thin air. One thing was for sure- he could not 
circumambulate it. On the left it seemed to stretch forever, and how 
would he know where the “swallowing ground” gave way to the normal 
surface he was used to walking on? Even if he could distinguish between 
them, it was getting dark and he knew he was coerced to find a 
coverture to spend the night in, lest he would be exposed over and 
above to the perils of the wild, so he didn't have much time to wangle 
out of this impasse. He had to cross it now! On the left was situated a 
pond conterminous with an enormous swamp. He would take his chances 
there when hell would freeze over; one of the first things his mom had 
taught him was to eschew swamps as, more often than not, they teemed 
with crocodiles- definitely not the most cordial of creatures. 
Crocodiles, one of the only species which he was au fait with, are 
exceptionally territorial reptiles. They were unequivocally puissant, 
virtually insuperable, and weren't very hospitable. Crocs were one of 
evolution's most auspicious creations, contemporary relicts of the 
dinosaur era. In fact, they had retained roughly the same imposing 
shape for milLions of years, surviving every mass extinction since 
brilliantly. Not many animals have managed to subsist even half as 
retentively, most of those who did being reptiles. This nonpareil trait 
adverts to these reptiles' sovereignty over au fond every other species 
throughout the history of the Earth in the long run. Frankly, Spot 
wasn't too agog to face such a redoubtable creature. In short, going 
anywhere near the swamped area was out of the question. Thus, as all 
other options were unthinkable, there was only one choice left: Spot 
had to find a way to cross the ground in front of him starkly and 
directly. Just as important, he had to do it as quickly as possible. 
‘That's easy to say', he thought to himself as he realized what his 
only option was. Two things were of an essence: Time span and 
maintaining sang-froid. Considering the circumstances, it would take a 
nearly perfect implementation of  both of them to succeed in carrying 
out Spot's – subconsciously- ingenious plan. Fortunately, there were 
many flat logs in the vicinity from which Spot could opt. That was 
fundamentally all the equipment he needed. He believed if there were 
something under him- insulating him from the ground- he would be less 
vulnerable. It did make sense to be separated from the inexplicable 
source of danger by a firm, durable material such as wood rather than 
being exposed from head to foot. In fact, any bulky object which had an 
extended surface would provide the optimal tool- a sort of float- in 
order to cross. Spot had no idea whatsoever why but it just seemed 
reasonable to him. As he approached the muddy area, he noticed that it 
wasn't ordinary mud. It seemed to be more of a mixture of sand and 
water rather than a compound; there was no chemical connection- each 
material maintained its own characteristics rather than turning into a 
new material, as occurs in the case of mud. Scientifically, these two 
cases were highly disparate, but to Spot this was: ‘nothing but another 
enigma', he thought to himself, fed up of trying to figure out every 
small inscrutability he had come upon. He found two more logs light 
enough for him to drag into the “danger zone”. Three logs would 
hopefully suffice to make it through it. He thrusted his claws into 
each wood and resolutely lagged toward the area, wrenching each log as 
he came nearer. Once he thought he was contiguous enough to the muddy 
terrain, he let go of the logs, grappled to catch hold of each wood in 
his mouth, turned his head left and veered it right unfalteringly in 
order to toss it afar away as possible. Ergo, one log was located in 
what Spot discerned as the beginning of the “sand-mud” expanse, the 
other two deep within that territory, each a jumping distance from its 
former, and equidistant from it. By prearranging them in such a manner, 
he would have a chance to maneuver betwixt them easily and swiftly. 
After having completed this modus operandi, Spot reclined in order to  
perpend the sequel of his plan. At least that's what he wanted to 
think- in fact, he was outright petrified. He wanted to stay there 
without having to cross the mud. For all he knew, he was about to be at 
death's door. He took another step toward the first log. One more step 
and he would be standing on a log while right underneath him would be 
the same ground that had previously devoured an eland. His heart 
hammered against his quivering chest. The h seemed to be silent except 
for his hectic panting. More apprehending than the fact that he was 
about to engage in a life-or-death struggle was the crypticity and the 
unpredictability of it. He didn't know what to expect and in a split 
second he could be yanked downward and a sink as the eland did.  But 
before he grounded his foot, he'd caught sight of an ant sauntering 
under his foot. Briskly, he suspended his foot in mid- air in order to 
obviate mashing the tiny creature. In doing so, he lost his equipoise 
and toppled over. Perturbed, he stood up, fearing he might've fallen on 
the ant despite his efforts not to kill it. He scanned the area nether 
him, invocating to see the ant intact. His eyes raced from one 
direction to the other, but the ant was nowhere to be found. ‘Oh no', 
Spot moaned. Notwithstanding the fact that every day, whenever he 
walked, he was bound to inadvertently step on small insects, he was 
always sentient about causing the least damage possible to the 
environment. He kept searching for the ant in vain. There was no sign 
of it. Downcast, he scratched his back, fumbling for the poor thing's 
body. He felt nothing. It instilled some hope into his heart knowing 
that the ant's carcass wasn't on him. There was still a possibility 
that he hadn't smashed it. He kept looking around for it. Then, 
luckily, he spotted a fleck of sand bulging slightly above the surface. 
It was an ant nest! Multitudes of ants assiduously came in and out of 
it, heading to a different direction from him. There was an 
outstretched row of the tiny creatures marching in tandem. He watched 
in awe. Putting two and two together, he inferred that he had done no 
harm to the ant; it had probably managed to escape into its nest.  He 
felt a surge of energy suffusing throughout his body. His heart ceased 
to pound and his breathing was restored. His soul rekindled by this 
occurrence, Spot again took the last step before boarding the first 
board which was supposed to provide a sort of float. All three flat 
logs seemed to remain at the same locus Spot had placed them. 
Veritably, they had descended lightly “into” the ground but lightly 
enough for the bare eye not to notice. But that was trivial to Spot. He 
was going to jump on that log and face whatever it was that was 
threatening his life no matter what. Especially that he was now 
regenerate, it was urgent that he do this immediately. He reverted his 
attention from the ants back to the challenge in front of him. The sky 
was already gray and night was about to fall. The sun had long ago made 
way for the first glistening stars. Spot sighed heavily and looked 
ahead. His pulse rising once more, but this time due to intransigence 
and exhilaration rather than trepidation, he sprang forward and onto 
the first log, the ground below him churning. This was it; there was no 
turning back now. Either he would survive the first day in his life 
without his mom or he would finally yield to nature's creations after 
having parried so many of them. The thought of his mother caused him to 
shiver. His head was crammed with so many nuisances that he had totally 
forgotten about her. In fact, her death drifting away from his mind 
would describe it better- how could one ever forget about his own 
mother, let alone if he had watched her die in his own eyes? Especially 
Spot, who had been so close to his mom. It's just that during the past 
day he had constantly face substantial mortal danger. Surprisingly, it 
instigated him to fight with all his might against this odd threat he 
was facing rather than pampering in sorrow.  ‘She would be proud of 
me', he thought, a tear tumbling down his face. Suddenly, he felt the 
ground moving beneath him. He spun his head down vexatiously hoping it 
was just his imagination. Alas, his fears were confirmed; the ground 
was giving way and he began to sink. This time his tremors were incited 
by terror. The pounding of his heart was fiercer, his gasps in shorter 
intervals. Unless he acted quickly, he would most likely end up ibidem 
with the eland. Spot briskly jumped from the rapidly submerging log to 
the next one he had allotted beforehand. The reason whence he'd placed 
the logs there was precisely that. Their purpose was to accommodate as 
insulators, which would buy him some time before he would be caught in 
the mud. While he was in midair, he could hear the gurgling of the mud 
“consuming” the first log. He was now dependent on the other two to 
keep him from drowning. If either of them sunk before Spot landed on 
it, he would well-nigh positively die. Still, even if they held fast, 
he would not be safe. Not until he reached terra firma would he be out 
of harm's way. Still in the air, Spot felt a gale crinkling his fur, 
sending a chill through his spine. What he didn't expect was that the 
wind had caused the log to scud to the right. Since the ground was 
soppy, the log was more liable to skidding and thus the light gale 
sufficed to displace it. It was now slightly off Spot's course, which 
meant that Spot was heading straight for the bare ground. Finally, Spot 
noticed this but he had no time to respond to it. ‘Oh no', he thought. 
As far as he knew, once he touched the ground he would be doomed. This 
assumption, despite being based only on what had happened to the eland 
before, was basically correct. He futilely endeavored to shift himself 
to the right. Gravity was against him. He couldn't do anything, just 
hope. His chances of surviving had just dropped from waist-high to 
ankle high. Nevertheless, he prepared to lunge forward once more, 
whether he would miss the log or not. His instincts told him to fight 
to the last ditch and keep his powder dry. His heart racing, he somehow 
had the feeling he was going to muddle through. Nonetheless, his life 
was afresh in the hands of fate. The line between life and death was 
practically invisible. However, ever since his mom had been killed, his 
fear of death subsided greatly, due to both the fact that his life was 
on the line many times and his mom's death itself, which stultified any 
emotion, anything that would once concern and affect him. Just about to 
ground, Spot peered down sharply, his optimism dilative. He was going 
to land on the edge of the log! Maybe his instinct was right- maybe he 
would make it after all. Despite the intense buoyancy this provoked in 
him, he remained focused, not forgetting that in front of him there was 
still an ample obstacle. He landed right on the edge of the log, 
staggering to stay on it. The log tilted under his weight, as his 
entire bulk bore down on one side of the log, breaching its balance. It 
was close to flipping over, Spot even closer to toppling into the mud. 
Penultimate before drowning, Spot stretched his right paw and leg to 
his right as far as he could. With a quick, incisive blow he detruded 
the right part of the log down, successfully ballasting it. Spot 
retrieved his balance as well, preparing to leap again en route the 
last log. The relatively prolonged span in which he stood on the log 
along with- more important- the drastic alterations of pressure 
asserted on the log catalyzed its sinking.  It was similar to what had 
happened to the eland- when he stood still, the sinking slackened; once 
he struggled, which veritably altered the dispersal of his weight on 
the surface, the sinking hastened. Now, Spot felt the clammy mud 
against the bottom of his paws. It was colder than he'd thought. Not as 
gelatinous. It sure didn't feel to him like ordinary mud. It seemed 
more like sand immersed in water or another liquid without being 
thoroughly combined. Stupefied, he impetuously vaulted toward the third 
log. Although he was fortunate not to be caught in the mud, he realized 
that the third log was a great deal farther than he'd anticipated. This 
time, he was sure he wasn't going to make it all the way to the log. No 
wind could change that, not even his superb luck.  He closed his eyes, 
clenched his teeth and braced himself for the upcoming collision with 
the ground. The die was cast- he was inevitably plunging to his death.  
His short, tormented life was about to be concluded acrimoniously. 
Without roaring or growling, no tears on his cheeks, Spot awaited to be 
sucked into the ground. Maybe he would meet his mother in dead world or 
something like that. He desisted to muse once he obtained a profound 
view of the ground beneath him. Its color was slightly different. It 
was lighter, more like sand. Its texture too somewhat varied from that 
of the mud and it wasn't moist. As soon as he'd unraveled this 
esoterism, he crashed into the ground sorely. No more was the terrain 
semifluid and viscous- it was now run-of-the-mill. Robust, immutable, 
compact. This area was beyond the sprawl of the muddy territory. He was 
completely oblivious of the severe pain afflicted by the fall on every 
single one of his organs. Conquered by transcendent glee, the pain 
vanished. He knew he'd surmounted yet another monumental barricade. His 
life was saved chiefly thanks to his dexterous coup, but it made no 
difference to him what the cause of it was- as long as he was in one 
piece. Howbeit, the fall he conceded was harsh and he was incapable of 
walking. His right hind leg was stained with blood and his left one was 
thoroughly bruised. He squatted down and extended his right leg so he 
could lick some of the blood off. The instant he moved his leg, it 
throbbed piercingly. “Ouch”, he cried shrilly. The blood trickled down 
his leg until it reached the ground, blotting it in red. Scrupulously 
enough that the pain was bearable, he pawed his leg inward until it was 
close enough to his mouth and then cleaned the blood until the bleeding 
stopped. Thereupon, he let it go, stood up, and tried to trudge 
forward. Just as he pressed his weight on his hind legs, they 
floundered and sent him straight to the ground. In the middle of 
nowhere, he was in yet another cul-de-sac. Spending the forthcoming 
night there was much too treacherous. He was utterly exposed and any 
animal that passed would easily detect him. He vetted his surroundings, 
angling for cover. He gaped in amazement at what seemed to be a kopje a 
few steps away. But it wasn't just a kopje. It was strikingly akin to 
the one that had furnished him as recourse when eluding the horrendous 
humans the other night. The same shape, approximately the same size. 
Both kopjes were located in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by 
trimmed grass and many large termite nests. If he didn't know better, 
Spot could've sworn the kopje he was staring at in amazement was the 
exact same one he had begun his quest for Dusk from. Pertinaciously, he 
stood up, at first lolling his injured leg and gradually pressing it on 
the ground, minimizing the pain. As he was limping toward the small 
hill, he got a vehement whiff of a putrid malodor. He'd never smelled 
anything like it. When he lowered his head to sniff the ground, the 
stench redoubled. He thus gathered that its source was hard by, 
eftsoons realizing that the ground was imbrued with blood. He looked 
around him. To his horror, blood covered the ground for as far as the 
eye could see. It was all a grotesque mixture of brown-green-red.  
Instinctively, he hunkered down and started licking his wound again. 
This time the pain was much weaker than before. Spot raised his head to 
normal height and squinted in puzzlement. ‘This isn't my blood', he 
thought to himself. He fathomed that it was impossible for him to lose 
such a substantial amount of blood in such a short amount of time, let 
alone given the fact that the pain had subsided. Nevertheless, he was 
unduly panicky when he saw blood and hence was unsettled despite the 
fact that he was positive the blood didn't belong to him. As quickly as 
his gashed leg allowed, Spot decamped from the blood- bestrewn area and 
neared the kopje. Soon enough, Spot was abreast with a snug inlet at 
the base of the kopje. The inlet, though small in relation to the kopje 
itself, was more than large enough for him to enter. It was actually a 
small cave that was probably created due to an unusual erosion of the 
bottom of the kopje. He swiveled his head inspectingly, making sure no 
animal was around. The area was clear. Then, without hesitation, he 
hobbled into it and found a cozy spot where he determined he would 
lodge at for the night. He lay down, painstakingly resting his hurt 
leg, and closed his eyes. Before he had time to fall asleep, he heard a 
soft respiring. At first he'd presupposed it was his own, but then he 
realized that it came in different intervals than his own. He held his 
breath, hearkening gingerly. Indeed, he could still hear the breathing. 
It seemed to come from the vicinity. He wondered why he hadn't heard it 
before he entered the cave. Even now that he'd perceived the breathing, 
he was incognizant of the fact that the creature that had produced it 
was inside the miniature cave with him. 


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