13th Day - Hyena
Reading time: 2 min
For the first time in my life, when I see the lion, I am not scared; I don’t bathe in despair. I’m still panting from the chase, and I hadn’t even had time to clasp my maw on that fresh meat, but I worked hard for it and I know this prey is mine.
My friends and family do as usual. They glance at the lion walking lazily towards our meal, and take mouthfuls of zebra as fast as they can before that hairy bully comes and steals from us.
Not this time, buddy.
This zebra was fast. She kicked me in the face, hard, my nose still bleeding, and she’s healthy, muscular, not like the ones we usually pick: old and dry and ill.
This zebra is mine.
The lion plants his claws on the carcass and roars my pack away. Not me.
He stares as if I had forgotten what part I should play. He’s not even threatening; just puzzled. I lower my head and he roars again, no more than one dragonfly from my face.
He strikes me, and I roll backwards. When I get on my paws, I notice only two things: the son of a bitch is between me and the zebra and a piece of my ear is on the floor.
I don’t care.
I growl, show my teeth, raise the hair on my hunched back. I’m not giving up this time, not anymore. I’m not just accepting that we hyenas do all the work and the lions get the prize. I’m going to make my own destiny; death or glory, it doesn’t even matter.
I see that my rebellion has some sort of effect on the lion. He’s not looking at the zebra, he’s touching it with his back paws, but his attention is on me.
I hear steps, and I see my pack joining me, not yet aggressive, but just curious.
Who would have said we could defy a lion?
