She could not smell it, for the wind was wrong. But her eyes saw much, and they spotted it. Absurd, long, but only from top-to-bottom. She worried, for she was always, always nervous, but her worry was small. It was small too, next to a lion. Weak, even beside a hyena. Laughably slow, running next to a cheetah, or behind herself.

She had no names for any of these things, names were not for her. But she knew them, could smell them, see them. Knew them somewhere deep, in fact, where all the ancestors lived. But the ancestors had not known this thing long. It was new, only thousands of generations rather than millions. Not enough time to grind into the mind, to live in the instinct. Not fully.

Still, though, its strangeness was enough to warn of danger, though not too much, for she had seen one chase a sister-creature of hers into the bush, and it was slow, and her sister had been fast, almost as fast as she herself, so there could not be too much worry. Worry could harm, could keep the mouth away from food, from water, had to be rationed. So if the strange two-legged creature came closer, there would be a brief chase, and it would end. Her vigilance would be enough.

And it did come, and she had to raise her mouth from the water, and flee. And it came still. Slow. She bounded left, right, made sure to keep her pursuer in the path of the wind so she could keep its scent. Strong, that scent. Strangely wet, and yes, water flowed over its unfurred hide. It used its strange paw to wipe the droplets from its head as it came, and came. Still she ran. Still not that much worry, she was much faster. It was far behind. She stopped, looked for food, looked for water. Weariness has begun, just at the edges.

But it was still coming.

Her head snapped up, smell closer, now she saw. It came, it came. There, there were trees, bush, she could hide, it would lose the path. She sprinted, graceful, fast, and it came, not walking, not graceful either. Bouncing up and down. Plodding, almost. It had something with it, something that was not it, connected somehow to a strange paw. Nothing too strange. Long straight tree-belonging. Stone at the end.

She bounded into the wood, let the leaves cover her trail. Ran a while. Found a clearing. Small pond. Water. Ah, needed, needed so badly.

But wait.

Rustling.

That scent.

No. How. How could it know. But here it was, breathing hard, but not slowing.

Worry now, real and deep. Flee. Out of the wood. Breathing. Breathing. Rasping and dry. Hurt all over, and hot, hot, sun is up, how can it still come, why has it not given her up as not-worth-it, she must collapse soon, surely it...

...but no. Still coming. And run, and run, longer than ever before. No more strength, no more strength, no choice either, worry overwhelming. No water, hot sun, it comes, smelling of dripping water. Where is it coming from, the water. How does the heat not...

...and the heat comes for her, and the dry, and the end-of-strength. Down, still trying to run, on her side in a cloud of dust, heaving, everything heaving, sight is dim, this is

some kind of end.

It makes strange noises, and then a sharp pain. The tree-belonging is through her hide, piercing. The pain distant, already she is at some kind of end

and now it all is ended

Khana'rari smiled, panting, tired but happy. She was large, almost fat. Prime of her life, she'd made him give good chase. There would be praise and meat back home, and his prayers to her were grateful ones.

He took her leg and began to drag her bounty back to camp.