Path to Paradise

The moon shadows me, following me everywhere I go. I have run far from the home of my childhood; it is the territory of another. We are peaceful felines and do not wish to fight over territories; we find our own. So I leave.
I wander along, pausing at intervals to catch something to eat. It may be a brocket deer or a peccary, anything I fancy. But as I get further away from the home I leave behind, I find less shelter over my head and less prey. Then, I see something I have never seen before in my life.
A tall tree? No, it cannot be, it does not have leaves and branches. Whatever it is, I do not like it. I turn to walk away. A moo sounds from behind me, faint but my sharp ears pick it up. I stop in my tracks. Can it be? Cattle? In such a remote place? It had come from the ugly thing so I am reluctant to look for the source of the moo. However, my rumbling stomach decides for me; I have not eaten for two times of the shadowing moon.1

I pad softly on the grass, scarcely making a sound. I can smell my prey now, a newborn calf, a delicacy for one like me. All of a sudden, nothing covers my head; I am in the open. The sun shines down at me and I tread back into shelter, into cover. I do not want to return back into the sunshine, where nothing covers me. I wait for darkness.
The moon shadows me again. It has barely risen but I cannot bear the rumbles in my stomach any longer; I need food, now. I step softly into the open, leaving no tracks. I see a newborn calf, and my stomach rumbles in response.
I pause, hiding among the shrubbery, before rushing out in an instant. I rip the calf’s neck open with my strong teeth, frightening its mother away. The calf dies in my jaws, its neck punctured with bite marks and I taste delicious warm blood in my mouth. Unable to resist the temptation any longer, I immediately attack the meat. Tasty juices fill my stomach, and I do not stop eating until my hunger is satiated. Little meat is left clinging onto the thin bones of the small calf; I throw it back onto the ground. Only then am I willing to leave.2

The next day, I am rudely awakened by shouts. My ears perk up, listening for more sounds. Suddenly, an explosion! I run, far and fast. The shouts turn towards me and something flies past. So fast! It’s even swifter than the hawk! I wonder what it is but I have no time to ponder. I run and run, trying to get farther away from the scary explosion. I hear barks following me, giving away my position.
I do not stop running, strengthened by my recent dinner. I am fearful for my life and dare not pause for breath. Something implants itself in my left foreleg. A burst of sharp pain causes me to stagger and nearly stop. I turn back to see if my pursuers have given up, and I am rewarded with a shot in my eye. It has missed my brain but half-blinded me. I bump into a tree but carry on. I run, on and on, afraid to stop for fear that they will return and shoot at me again. Luckily, it seems that they have given up chase, so I stop and slump against a tree, tired. 3

I cannot find food and my prey seem to laugh at me when I try to catch it. A majestic feline such as me laughed at? It is unbelievable and an outrage! However, with my crippled leg and blind eye, there is not much I can do about it. I save my pride and dignity by baring my teeth to frighten them, and to tell them I’m still a proud strong feline. They are not as scared as they should be but I am satisfied enough. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, they’ll be taken aback momentarily and I will take the chance to strike. Many are killed this way and it’s the only way to fill my stomach, for I am not vegetarian. After they have disappeared, down my stomach or to their home, I slink away silently.
I am jealous of those with a home to return to.
Having not eaten for three times the shadowing moon has rose, I attempt to look for cattle again. I find a lone calf near another ugly absurd thing and kill it immediately, enjoying the meal quickly before limping away. 4

Sometimes, I wonder where is the path my mother had told me about before it was time I left her side. She came from somewhere faraway, because she had to leave her home; it was being destroyed by ugly things on two legs. They and their noisy things killed many of the ancient trees, leaving nowhere for her to find food and shelter. Thus, she had to leave. She was one of the lucky ones who could leave; many of her friends were killed by the ugly two-legged things. Shots rang through the times of the shadowing moon, and my mother ran.
She had walked far and long to reach her current home. It seemed to be a path specially made for jaguars: me and her. It went on forever, a path created by other jaguars before us, flanked by vegetation sheltering all who pass through. Soon, she found a forest with plenty of food so she rested there for a while. After a few more times the burning sun has risen and shone, she found her new home, a forest beautifully preserved, full of food and even a male for mating. There was so much space for her to roam about and places for her to call a home.
The path led to paradise.5

It is this path I look for now, the path that will bring me to my new home, the path that will open up a new door in my jaguar life. But wherever I go, I hear explosions in the distance and I am afraid to venture further; my blind eye and crippled leg do not help either. It is a miracle that I have survived for so long. It looks like the time for death has not come for me so I will persevere on.
When I hear footsteps in the distance, I pause and hide among the shrubbery. Slowly, I will peer out and see those ugly two-legged things my mother spoke off. I recognize them to be the same as the pursuers of a time long ago. I will growl deeply, but softly so as to not draw attention to myself. Rarely will they hear me, though I have noticed them following me a few times. I wonder what their motive is. Are they not of the same liege as those who had wanted to kill me?
My conclusion is that these ugly two-legged creatures are weird. Some want to kill me, others want to help me. I do not know what goes on in their mind; don’t they have but only one objective, which is to live? We jaguars are not complicated creatures, unlike the ugly two-legged creatures, which I have come to call Destroyer. Jaguars are fighting against the odds to live; it seemed that everything is against us, especially Destroyer, who does not care at all about us, only for themselves. I do not understand them, nor do I want to. Although they are my enemies, our enemies, and it is always better to know one’s enemies, I am too preoccupied in finding my paradise.6

I have searched far and long for this path, many times have the moon followed me on my journey. One of these times, I hope for it to be soon, I will find this path and come upon my own paradise, one where there are no explosions and no killings, and jaguars can live happily, safely and contentedly. That paradise will come, in time.