Carcass in the Sand

In the blistering sky above the desert buzzards circle. Occasionally, one will swoop down to join the feasting throng below. Life is harsh in the desert and it rarely gives up those who dare to enter its searing landscape.

Shala lay in the sparse foliage that surrounded the waterhole and eagerly watched the human slurp down water. As this action was repeated over and over, it seemed as if the big cat would lose patience. But only a slight curling of her long tail and a flicker of her gleaming yellow eyes betrayed the cat's anxiety.

She had tracked the man as he stumbled across the sand for the past day, moving in when he fell and then retreating when he rose to struggle on. Her hunger had driven her into the barren wastes in pursuit of prey. Now she sensed that her long hunt was nearing its end.

With a loud grunt, the man turned from the waterhole and flung his exhausted body upon the sand. In a moment, the sound of snoring reached Shala's keen ears. Her weakness from hunger made her cautious. With her ebbing strength, she must make sure of her kill. She waited for several heartbeats, watching the man carefully. Then, satisfied that he was indeed asleep, she rose quietly and began to move stealthily toward the unconscious form on the ground.

He was dreaming. He lay on a sandy beach, watching the waves roll in. They were so beautiful, white froth fringing dark blue depths. Suddenly, the sea began to rise up until it became a giant wave. He watched in horror as it loomed over him. Then with a great roar, the wave came crashing down on him.

He awoke with a start, instinctively rolling to his right, away from the wave in his head. That action saved his life. With a snarl of anger, Shala swept past, her snapping jaws missing the man's throat by inches. Instantly, she whirled around, her eyes sweeping the clearing for any sign of her quarry.

But he was up and running, making for the battered trees in the hope that they would provide some shelter. The cat let loose a loud roar that sent fear tingling up the man's spine, causing him to run faster. Shala leapt after him.

The man was almost to the edge of the clearing when the cat caught up with him. She swiped at him with one large paw. Her claws ripped into his blistered back, tearing away skin and flesh. The man screamed. The tangy scent of fresh blood filled the air, filling Shala with renewed energy. She licked her chops, eager for the kill.

The blow from the cat had sent the man reeling into the forest where he had disappeared from view. Shala heard some thrashing and then all was quiet. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the shadows and then stepped into the brush to find her meal.

The cat found the blood-smeared trunk of one tree not too far from the clearing. She began to sniff curiously around it. She growled deep in her throat, sensing the nearness of her prey. Warily, she began to edge around the tree.

Shala did not notice the shadow move in the branches above her until it was too late. The sharp point of the broken branch hurtled down into her skull, piercing through her ear into her brain. Shala howled in agony. Her body spasmed, once, twice, and then she lay still.

A closer look reveals that the buzzard-picked carcass lying in the sand is the remains of a great cat. Nearby, leading to and from the oasis, are the tire tracks of a jeep. Soon the lines will fade away and the bones will be swallowed by the sand. The buzzards will seek other carrion.

The desert has had her feast. But her appetite is vast and she must be satiated. She does not worry. On her borders, she again hears the rumblings of war machines and she knows she will be fed again.