Striped Shadows

Striped

I.STRIPED

A great roar tore through the thick impenetrable jungle-flora, disturbing the migratory birds in their perches. And soon the panicked reply of the other animals followed. Monkeys howled atop the canopy, cuckoos and other exotic birds chirped their lungs out and even the jaguar gave a lazy growl. The cacophony of sounds from the jungle's denizen became a collective scream, tearing the calm air and disorienting the already confused creatures who relied on their auditory senses, adding more chaos to the madness. The unfamiliar would dismiss the mixed cries and shrieks as noise, but in truth, it signaled the start of the great hunt.

The stifling humidity of the jungle didn't dither the huntress as she continued to stalk the beast in the maze of vegetation. She leaped from branch to branch and finally down the ground. The heat of the noon sun added to the difficulty of her mission. A mission fueled by the primal anger in her core. But she reined it, focusing it to one single point. The anger heightened all of her senses. It made her every muscle tensed and ready to pounce at her prey. It strengthened her.

The huntress paused and looked around. Vines hung like dead serpents in the canopy above, and thorns littered the ground below. While beams of light pierced the canopy like silver spears between the space, giving more than enough light to guide her pursuit. 

It was all she needed.

She typically hunted gaurs, nilgais, and sambars but this time she hunted a predator like her. A very shrewd and experienced beast, she thought. Death was eminent and danger was just around the corner.  So, every action must be calculated and must be precise. She sighed and resumed her precarious mission.

Her naked body contorted and snaked through the greenery, soundlessly. And not far from where her hunt started, she halted over a fallen tree covered in green moss, leaning closer to the rotten wood to examine it.  A ghost of a smile formed on her lips as she crouched closer to the clawed foot print in the moss-laden rock.

Still fresh, maybe a day old, she thought.

She raised her head high, only a faint smell lingered in the air. The prey was closer than she'd imagined. She followed the odor towards a dark twisting trail, vigilant for possible traps.

The huntress used its innate speed and agility as her journey took her in the unexplored part of the jungle. An adept swimmer, she crossed a deep and narrow pond crowded with white and red lilies. She did not admire the view for she knew she was getting closer.

Every movement she took made her heart pound in excitement. The first step was closing the distance between her and the beast and it was all coming to fruition as planned. She shivered as she emerged on the other side of the pond, water dripping down her back like small rivulets. 

The huntress slowed down as she set foot on the pebbled surface. She craned her head and sniffed the air. This time the odor was a lot stronger. The faint coppery smell of blood and the beast's urine stink lingered in the jumbled roots of an ancient acacia tree. The beast had its fill, she thought. The smells gave all the details she was looking for. 

Without forethought, the huntress dashed back to the trail and continued on. As she expertly avoided the labyrinthine foliage marring her way she thought of the things that happened to her. 

It will never be the same again. Three starless nights ago she had been playing with her first born when a great burning orb pierced the black night, leaving behind yellow contrails in the starless sky like claw marks on a granite slab. Bright blinding light soon followed as the orb crashed itself in the deepest part of the jungle. She already sensed the danger it brought but ignored it. It was the first error she made. And it would be her greatest regret. 

Soon after that night, animals began dying- torn to pieces by taloned paws and left to rot in the forest floor. It became an open charnel house as carrion began to mount. Its assiduous butcher seemed to be in a murder frenzy. Jungle folks whose tribes adapted and made use of everything around them grew alarmed as they discovered the mysterious and merciless killings. Some suggested that a rogue creature stalked the shadows. While others, who considered themselves more sensible, concluded that the gruesome events were the omens their pagan gods sent them. Tough times were ahead. They thought that spirits of the forest needed appeasement. So they proffered sacrifices and lit countless incense to halt the massacres. Only to be disappointed of its savage continuance.

She didn't believe this. And the huntress' proud ancestry didn't cowed her. For she knew what it'll take to protect her youngling and what she'll do to those who will be foolish enough to cross her path. It was the second grave error she made and it'll have the biggest toll of all.

The beast came, and it came shrouded by the dark night. Its sound muffled by the light flitting rain and the rumbling thunder. While she and her firstborn were in deep slumber, it arrived like a specter from a long lost time. When dawn came, she awoke and terror struck her nerves. Her firstborn, the love of her life, the heir of her little kingdom was missing in their den, no longer in her protective arms. No longer safe from the dangers of the jungle. She panicked and searched for it, turning every stone upside down, but to no avail.

Where could it be?she asked herself. But none offered an answer that could suffice. 

She almost gave up when she heard the faint whimper in the bushes half a league away from their lair. She approached it, wary of the creature that waited for her in the gloom. The huntress brushed away the vegetation from whence the sound originated only to find what she was looking for torn to pieces and dying.

The sight was both appalling and horrid. She dropped down to her firstborn's side helpless as a bead of tear fell from her eye. She scooped the remains as it croaked its last breath of life. Time stopped and the bustling jungle paused in silence. She felt her heart sank in the cold depths of her anguish. The unfamiliar pain strangled her will to live. It was worse than the wounds whose scars she proudly wore. It was the agony of losing a love one. It was Death's whisper itself.

The huntress roared with ferocity, tears streaming down her face and a great and cold hate burned through her emptied soul. While the jungle itself expressed its sympathy in its own silent way. Anger swelled up from her chest, filling the emptiness of her heart with molten rage.

What creature could've done this to her youngling? Who would do such a ghastly thing to her precious firstborn?

The answers to her questions came in the form of padded paw prints leading away from her den and to the deep jungle...