Tower Bicker

I awake. The Sun shines, jubilant and glorious, a pure golden nugget, undeniable truth of the power of nature. I smile at the Sun, for I too am an irresistible power of nature. I dominate a family of muskrats to assert my position in the food chain, but they are bony and dry, powder in my cavernous mouth. Unsatisfactory.

As I pick the meat out of my teeth with muskrat skeletons, I muse again on my whereabouts. The jungle is as unfamiliar as the previous day, but, with my rest achieved, I find my splendid loins filled with a new energy, and an urge to explore. I set out, quietly crushing the carcasses at my feet.

The air darkens as my paws tread through untouched vegetation, knifing through plants like a shark through children. Lianas and leaves grasp at my luminary body, but I unearth them with my puissant strides. Moist foliage whips my face and inundating fog threatens to suffocate, but persevering the depressing gloom I arrive at a clearing in the canopy. Above me, out on the horizon, I spot with piercing eyes a grassy plateau rising up through the dense foliage, and atop the mount, a blackened tower of metal, perched menacingly against the bright awesome sky. My mind sharpens. Exploration can wait; my goal is clear.

Mere strides later, I find myself at the imposing intruder's door. Inside, I hear angry voices, bickering and shouting. Humans, trapped in their maudlin mausoleum like retarded fish in an underwater barrel. With a crash, I pounce into the mayhem of the tower bicker.

Heart of Darkness

As I edge closer to the voices, I see a fence, tall and mighty, made of the fierce wood of the Betel Nut tree. I mourn the desecration of my bark brother, but hide my grief as I crush the puny barrier with one swipe of my mighty forelimb. I continue, unhindered, unhurt, unstoppable.

Before me, in the muddy calamity of soil and muck, sit four wooden huts, and before them sit twenty humans, laughing pathetically. I narrow my eyes as I crouch and stalk them, circling them so I can run at them from in front. I wish to see my enemies' eyes as I hunt them.

Without warning, I begin. I lunge directly for the largest human, and rip into his chest. I savor the cry of pain, but I must concentrate. This is no time for play. I turn to the others, and let out a ferocious roar, obliterating ten of them instantly. The remaining humans look at me, trembling, fear pouring from their eyes. I feed on their fear, and moments later, I feed on their faces. With a supertiger power inspired by Mother Earth herself, I rip one of the huts out of the ground and thrust it deep into the heavens, a warning to the petty human-loving gods. I proceed to trample on the neighboring huts, and to mark my territory.

The camp lies smoldering from my fiery attacks of justice. My work is done. As I walk away, the jungle slowly reclaims this place of darkness. A little bird flies overhead. A golden-mantled tree kangaroo hops onto a piece of timber.

I rest, content in the knowledge that I have made my home a better place. With a soft purr, I fall fast asleep.

The Edge of the Jungle

The morning dawns, clear, fresh. Sunlight hurts my majestic eyes. I look around; the place is not familiar. It is a clearing, surrounded by impenetrable trees of lushest green, moisture dripping from their leaves as from my lengthy appendages. Nearby, a lone tapir grazes quietly on the swaying tall grass. I eat him and begin to explore.

I step through the soft ground, pawing at this and that, stretching my powerful muscles. I have no recollection of my previous day, and shaking my royal head, I vow never again to play beer pong. I growl deeply and take in my surroundings. Enormous plants reach up to my every side, but they are humbled by my sheer bulk, the presence of a king. All around, unseen birds sing their shrill songs. Were I younger, a mere cubling, I would leap into the branches and swipe down these pitiful creatures before devouring their tiny bones with resonant crunches. But alas: I am no longer a youth. My limbs are large and my mind is careful. No more play.

Several minutes into the vegetation, I hear a sound. Voices - voices of humans. Fire stirs in my heart. Humans destroyed my tiger village when I was a child, hunting every one of us for our glossy hides. I, alone, escaped, disguised as an orange. My body was unharmed, but the innocence in my eyes was damaged beyond healing. I will never forget that bloody day.

My claws extend, instinctively. My legs tense, ready to sprint and spring, but I control my raw energy. Slowly, I creep towards the noise.