my word is hunger
If she cannot find food soon, her cubs will die.
The cheetah mother knows this, and yet the savanna remains empty, her treacherous eyes refusing to show her the blur of movement for which she seeks.
If she cannot find food—
The amber eyes hold a flicker of anguish.
She is like a skeleton, emaciated, thin. Her amber eyes stare hollowly ahead; they are haunted eyes. It has been days since she last ate, and her body shows the toll that it is taking on her.
Her cubs are yet to be stricken by this famine, for she has given them all of her meager catches, not holding any back for herself. Behind her, they play and romp in the grass. They are two. Once they were three. But not anymore.
There is a lump in her throat as the sunken form of the cub she left behind flashes in her mind.
Then the amber eyes of the cheetah narrow, and she shakes her head. For of what use are such thoughts to her?
If she cannot find food soon, her remaining cubs will die. She will die.
~
But suddenly, there is a blessed streak of brown in her vision, a note from heaven. The cheetah mother knows, at once, that this is her chance.
Here comes the answer. Here comes the way to save her cubs, to smite this starvation that has come upon them.
She is running. In front of her is a gazelle, this blessed gazelle which will change the cheetah mother and her cubs’ lives. This gazelle will save them all.
She has never felt so hungry before, but she knows that it will all be over soon. Her breathing is shuddery, her strides long, graceful, powerful, those amber eyes gleaming. She licks her lips, smiling beatifically as she pictures the warm, red meat in her mouth, filling her tongue, filling her body. She is baring her teeth, squaring her shoulders, extracting her claws, and preparing to pounce . . . she is leaping forward, ready to kill, ready to catch, ready to claim what is rightfully hers . . .
Her face meets the ground. There is the taste of dirt in her mouth.
The amber eyes look up in surprise, in fear.
She has missed. Fallen short of the prey.
Up ahead, in front of her, the gazelle is still running, and the cheetah mother sees this. She pulls herself to her feet, lopes after the gazelle tiredly—
—and falters. The cheetah mother falters.
The pain in her belly is searing, now. She lets out a moan, falling to the ground. Her amber eyes have a haunted look, a lost look.
It has been too long since she ate last. It has been too long since she was strong, energized and full of life. She is not up to this, this hunting. She is too far gone.
She has failed her cubs.
If she cannot find food, her cubs will die.
~
She has been searching the savanna, searching for movement, for hope, for another chance. But to no avail.
She cannot find food.
She sinks down again; this time she pays her own hunger no mind. But her strength is spent, her endurance long gone. There is nothing more she can do.
Her cubs will die.
And it is all her fault.
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