Grass cuts into my paws as I tread heavily across the scorching hot savannah. My eyes droop constantly, begging me for release, for closure. However, the grumbling of my empty stomach keeps my eyelids opened, and body in motion.

No thoughts float in my head, as there is only room for one word. Food.

The images of me sinking my teeth into the soft flesh of an unwitting meal is the thought, the image, that makes every painstaking step possible. Yet, it seems everyday my options dwindle away. The grassy land once booming with wildlife seem deserted, barren. It’s then, as I’m pondering the disappearing act of my companions, that I notice it.

Hesitating, I take a deep sniff of the air. Eyes widen, as I recognize the scent. Had it been several months ago, when I walked with a full stomach and bones that never ached, I might have seen it coming a mile away. Would have smelled the metallic powder, seen the glint of the contraption, capable of spitting fire and rock at neck-snapping speed.

Yes, maybe if I was less tired and weary, I would have seen all of the signs of the two legged beast. But as an earsplitting ripple slices through the air, I realize, it’s far too late. Once again, predator has become prey.