Prologue

"That's it. I'll be off and back in few hours"

    His pulsing paws heaving salient breaths on the earth beneath. He did a stealthy look at the lofty empress, as he let his limbs agree with the willing waist. Off he went giving his eyes a sight before his limbs sited. 

    The summer was quite betraying as the airy antelopes hid in tuning thickets of fear of a ferocious pounce - a malady equivalent to the rhythm the forest played to them. 

    The saucy sun kept the vociferations drooping as the taunted trees bowed in rhythmic sway to the jazz of the whooshing wind. The sway paged a ray on the eerie earth as the latter embraced the force melting to fiery heat beneath a sane sole.

    Machli spotted a deer from the spot veiling the weary retina. He merged with the patches of grasses the tyrannic summer  was generous enough to spare. Giraffes hadn't plied that route for a while until winter. Thereby leaving a cluster of greens for unpredictable purposes like this.

    He watched them make a strain of assembly as they headed for the river. He began to crawl, consciously, careful not stir a stare. He let the over protective  mother obstructing his aim lag, as he dashed to take down the eldest of all her children, which was immediately ahead of the mother.

   "Watch out, Lart!"

     It was too late. The emperor of the caste had bitten into his neck. Others fled. Even the once protective mother was no exception. Her mouth was faster than her limbs:

    "Lord!! Keep Lart!"

      Machli scoffed and did the best he could: drag the prey to shade for another catch. He was actually a man. He'd gotten a big family.  Two callous cubs, and a demanding empress. A thirteen month old deer won't do. 

      He yawned the hunger away, as he traversed the weald in a sharp gaze. There was nothing in sight. He took few steps ahead, yet none. 

     "To get more is to labour more"

      He urged his tired limbs as he left the prey for another hunt. No beast dare come to take his catch, he smirked.

     The sojourning sun drifted off and on like a tongue of the lightening. The hungry vulture that reaped what she didn't sow was calling from the rear of the weald. He hastened along and did an abrupt halt.

        "Oops!!"

       His retina seemed to trace a picture from the silhouette the saucy sun had sketched. He took two limbs forward, to affirm his doubt of it being a gazelle. A marathon mark was drawn! 

      A gazelle was known by all the foresters to be closely faster than a cheetah, if not though. If he was to catch her, he was to run like a cobra was after him. He heaved a sigh and charged.

       He'd scarcely ignited the limbs that she'd taken five leaps ahead. It was a death-to-hare race. He'd gotten a family to feed, and she wasn't ready to die. He kept the pace and was close before what seemed like a running carriage came between them, which made her escape.

       "What the fuck!"

        His loudest growl. Firstly, he was mad at losing the prey. Secondly, what seemed like humans were laughing over it. He was really mad. He promised himself to make this so called human replace the prey.

        He walked round the carriage with four wheels, growling in sundry riffs. Rhythm that suited his anger. He was going to leap into the car before the man in the car stepped off the carriage.  He smirked and thought of the best way to take him down, but unknown to him, the cursed fellow had came for him.

     Before he could think of leaping, awing the guts the man was basked in that made him step off the carriage in confrontation, the man had done some miracle, and he was already seeing twenty-five duplicates of the man before him. He didn't know what it was. But he could remember feeling a venomous spray tearing down the retina, draining the surging strength in him. The thought of his hungry cubs made him linger in consciousness until he began to unconsciously slip subsequently into unconsciousness.

     He felt soft stuffs beneath him, softer than his paws. He could still use his inner eyes, he wanted to snap at the neck of the man carrying him, he wished to tear his esophagus, but they were better off as wishes. Strength mocked him. Strength wouldn't complement them.

     He began to disperse, as he finally succumbed to gloom.