Day is reserved for we cheetahs. While many of our other feline cousins are creatures of the dark, we hunt when the sun is high, and use our eyes to find our prey, instead of our noses. The women are solitary, and the men are social. It is a unique structure, and it is how we get by in life, as we all well know. In the early morning, our mother brought us the young of a smaller breed of antelope, live.
It was time to practice the hunt. The thing shrilled in terror every time Ures, Leks, or I batted it around. While I felt a little sorry for it, I thought it was a lot more fun than running down field mice. Loping, I was shocked to find that Leks was much better at catching the antelope than Ures or myself. He seemed to swipe with good aim and got the choking bite nearly perfectly by the end of our practice. I myself always fell flat on my face every time I tripped the critter. Ures managed to accomplish tripping without falling by the end, but never turned fast enough to spring in to slash the jugular.
Eventually, mother rewarded Leks by letting him deliver his first killing bite. He clutched the throat of the antelope in his jaws until it suffocated. The light left it's eyes and it was unmoving after two hours of being a simple toy. While we all felt bad for the life taken, we knew one day our own bodies would be fodder for all herbivores, in the Circle of Life. Besides, there was no time to feel pity for our food. We ate quickly once we killed, knowing the scent of death would draw hyenas. The little thing was only enough to fill up one of us on our own. Split between we cubs and our mother, it wasn't nearly enough.
That afternoon, mother was on the hunt again. Because we had already practiced today, us three were goofing off. Our mother managed to take down the prey and was calling us over. As soon as we arrived at the feast, however, five shadows sprang from the grass. Spotted Hyenas. They leered at us and giggled manically. A large female stepped forward. The matriarch of the group, obviously. Her gaze was vicious and she bared her fangs. My mother stepped back, and pressed her hind into us, forcing us to retreat. We were scared. I think the hyenas could smell our fear, because they started laughing even louder. I know you've met their lot before.
"What's all this, now, ehhhh? Come to give us a feast, have you dear kitties?" cooed the Alpha Female, her grin wide and filled with malice.
"Hehehehe, all for us, all for us, right Mikara?" cackled a young male, glancing at the leader.
"Hush, Gobara," she hissed, glaring at him. Obviously, she wanted to be in control of the situation. Mikara needed no input from her subordinates.
"It is… our… pleasure…" said Mother through gritted teeth. "Come children. Let us leave."
"Where do you think you going?" Mikara said sharply, showing her fangs in a smirk that would give anyone nightmares. "Who said you could leave? This won't fill us up, you know!"
And that's when I knew. I just knew that it wasn't going to end prettily. "Run!" cried Leks. We all turned and made off. Our mother urged us on and kept us going. Three of the hyenas came after us, including Gobara and Mikara. We put serious distance between them and us at the start, but we three children were starting to lag. Our mother urged us to run faster. However, we were still so young, and hadn't developed the endurance to keep going. In a last ditch effort, suddenly Ures stopped. I was going to stop as well, thinking we were going to make a last stand. However, he yelled at us to keep going. Our mother urged us on, even resorted to force to keep Leks and me moving. She kept running as well.
Of course, he was giving them what they wanted. A free meal. Letting the beasts prey upon a poor mother and her cubs. Ahhh, do not speak, my child. I realize that this is quite proving a point, Morus, that letting males and females mix in coalitions could be safer not only for the cubs, but for the females themselves. But please, hold your questions for now.
I could hear the snap of bones behind me and the screaming and the mad laughter. It is not something I will ever forget. The memory is so vivid in my mind, I can exactly remember ever detail, every conversation. We were nearly half a mile off when I finally looked back. I could see Mikara carrying a limp yellow form in her jaws. I know that Ures' bones now rest somewhere in hyena territory. If you and your Rebellion ever go there to exact your revenge on those beasts as well, I wish you to bless all the bones of our brothers and sisters you find there.
My mother was distraught. She cried for days. I myself wept with her. It seemed impossible that my brother, my dearest friend since I was born, could be gone. Leks hid whatever mourning he had. I never once saw him cry, although often I spotted him turning away to hide his sadness. I suppose that's what makes him strong. Even though he appeared gullible and curious and foolish, he understood more than he ever let on. I can really appreciate how reliable he was for both mother and I. While Ures and Leks had been quite the opposites, Leks still missed his sibling. After all, blood is thicker than water, as they say.
Regardless, we spent our time in mourning. Our mother still hunted, but both Leks and I could tell her heart wasn't in it since her success rate was much lower than it had been. Usually she caught one of every two animals she hunted. This was actually average for a cheetah. Yet, she had to hunt sometimes six or seven times those days to actually catch something, since she never really ran all out. It took almost two weeks for her to finally start realizing we were suffering. I asked her about other times, when our elder siblings and half-siblings had perished during her careful raising. Should she not be used to such things at her age? She sat me down, apart from Leks. This was a mother-daughter talk. No males allowed. And then she said seriously, "The death of every creature is a tragedy. Many of my children have died, and many in similar incidents. But I loved each and every one just the same, and I cried for them whenever one died, and laughed happily whenever one lived."
Pausing, she called Leks over. It seemed she was opening the discussion up for the whole family to listen to. "One day, you will find yourselves without me." Of course, I thought at that time. Everyone grows up, and everyone dies in the end. But I didn't interrupt. "When that day arrives, know that you both will have each other, until you both split to find your own paths. So learn to be strong, my darlings. Despite my own foolishness in my old age, do miss those who die. But don't let your feelings risk yourself or those you care about. This is one of the most important things I can teach you."
Leks and I nodded in understanding. It was plain that she was saying although we could long for our brother, we shouldn't let his sacrifice be for nothing. I tried to teach my own children the same thing, and I hope they passed on that nugget of wisdom to you. And perhaps you will pass it all on to your family as well.
Through the next three months, as my brother and I were now ten months old, we begun to meet other enemies that we would distrust by instinct. The wild jackal, the hyenas, even the eagles that flew so freely. Eagles would eat younger cubs if they could get a chance, after all. But Leks and I would be in for a shock soon. For we would meet some enemies whom I would not at first think them so. Yet, after this next encounter, it was ground into my head at last: we are surrounded. Stronger predators who will kill us if they get a chance encircle us cheetahs. There is no mercy for us. Our food is taken, our children murdered, and our life spans are considerably poorer because of it.
Hunting had been good. Leks was more friendly to me those days. At the very least, he didn't snap at me whenever I got lonely and followed him off to meet his friends. While they never tried to get close with me myself, the critters seemed to trust Leks. He was a friendly cheetah, all around. Of course, perhaps it was because I was clumsily trying to hunt small prey on my own at the time. Once, I caught a jackrabbit. My mother was so proud, and Leks cheered me on, smiling. I felt very smug about it. Later, I saw him take down a baby antelope – one of the smaller breeds, of course. I realized he hadn't said anything then to spoil one of my proudest moments. He was and ever after would be one of the best hunters I ever met. His success rate was nearly perfect.
In fact, it wouldn't be long before I actually came to Leks to ask for help in teaching me to hunt. While mother did her best, I wanted to know what techniques one my own age used to do even better than our own parent. He carefully taught me how to swipe without falling, by telling me to practice watching my own feet. Leks told me to first trip and then turn away before coming back to the prey for the killing bite, even though he managed to trip and then attack in a much smoother fashion.
The day we encountered a new breed of enemy was not quite as special as the death of Ures, but indeed very interesting nevertheless. Mother had found an old, ailing warthog. We'd only had a taste of warthog before, when she had found a piglet that strayed too far from its mother. I have to admit, the taste in astoundingly good. I especially enjoy the haunches, myself. We were in the middle of eating when my mother raised her head and growled. It was a vocalization of warning. Immediately, my brother and I leaped away from the corpse, raising our eyes to look around for the threat.
While my mother didn't yowl as she might during extreme peril, I could tell from her expression that she might as well have. And quickly I understood why she only growled lowly to tell us there was an enemy lurking. Approaching us was a pair of lionesses. They were so huge to me then and there. Heavy set with powerful looking claws. At first, I didn't understand. Lions are the most powerful presences in a territory. We respect them and their King, and never encroach into their business. But quickly, the two females made the situation apparent to me.
"Queen Corva," said my mother in the most respectful of tones. "It is a pleasure to see you today. And you…?"
"Hinna," said the second lioness promptly. Hinna was a bright crème in color, and seemed slightly friendly towards us, if not indifferent. Her yellow gaze was mild. It was Queen Corva who appeared the aggressive one. Her gaze was shadowed, and she sneered down upon us cheetahs.
"My, my, my, Miss Jambi, two more little darlings. I myself have four at home that need taking care of."
"That is good, my Queen," murmured Mother. "The legacy of the King is indeed in good paws." Corva looked down at the warthog cadaver, appearing almost casual when she continued her train of thought. "Oh Miss Jambi, since I have more children to feed, surely you could spare me some of your meal?"
My mother bowed her head. "Of course, my Queen. What is mine is yours." I couldn't believe it! My mother was giving in so easily. It was quite obvious that even if my mother had declined, that Corva would of taken the food anyway. It was true she had no choice but to forfeit our meal – otherwise, one of us could get hurt. And injury can lead quickly to death. It was not her action in giving in to the Queen's wishes that bemused me. It was that she did it without a hint of bitterness or anger. It was as if she genuinely wanted to give the old hag our hard earned food! As if she really lived to serve.
"Hinna. Bring that. Darling, look what I found," called Corva, leaping off and calling out towards a male lion with a full, golden mane. He looked curiously at the pig and then at our little family, huddled with large eyes, looking sadly after our lost meal. He simply turned away, ignoring our silent pleading.
From that day forward, it was clear as crystal. Lions were no good. No lion would ever be good. And for a very long time after, I would hate them almost as much as hyenas. They were just as bad as those scavengers. The worst of them will take our food. The best of them will enable the worst of them to do so. There was and likely always will be nothing we can do to break this chain of command.
We are just too weak.