The Hunter

The gravel crunched under the Jeep's wheels causing a churning sound to echo through the ravine. 'Shhh..' our tracker said in a soft tone, as the driver brought the vehicle to a complete stop 'He's hunting'. Our backs stiffened and we leaned towards the direction he indicated. Our ears strained to hear noises, in the now silent ravine. The intensity of the sun seem to have increased, causing the sweat to drip down our necks, along our backs in winding streams. A sip of water would help, but no one dared move, as if our movement would somehow disturb the predator-prey dance. 

As the sun rose further into the morning sky, the sound of alarmed birds rang through the forests. They squawked and rose from the trees in great numbers, rushing for the safety of the skies, like one smooth body with one single goal- to get away. The alarm had gone off. Troops of monkeys swung from tree to tree crying in alarm, rustling the giant boughs of trees that had stood their ground for hundreds of years. He was coming!

'Up there. To your left' our tracker said in hushed tones. The birds and the monkeys had fled to the right. We strained from our seats to get a glimpse of the elusive orange and black striped terrorist. 'He's there' someone said, pointing to the rough undergrowth of the forest above. Everyone looked. No one could spot him. You would think that the flaming orange would stand out in the green undergrowth, until you look again and realize that you may never find him. 

The leaves rustled like a tornado had hit it. Groups of barking deer fled towards the right causing the whole forest to move like in preparation for an attack! The loud barks of the deer even reached us, sitting more than three hundred meters away. Fear, excitement and anticipation coursed through our veins. Would we see the magnificent hunter in action? Would the thick underbrush hide it all? Would we hear the cry of the captured prey?

All of a sudden, the forest went quiet. Not a sound could be heard- like a much-awaited drama had ended but the audience was too enraptured to get out of their seats. 'There's a less used track around the other side, which can lead us to the spot' our tracker said 'We may not see him, but maybe able to see the prey'. We wound around to the track and travelled for about half hour, hoping to give him time to relish some of his meal- probably a young fawn, we thought. We could never get close enough to watch the action, but even the faintest sight of the fiery orange and black would have sufficed. 

As we neared the opening, our hearts froze. There he lay, against a large boulder, his magnificent body limp- barely a vestige of his former glory. He bled from his flank where the bullet had probably entered his heart. The greatest predator of these forests had fallen prey to the greatest predator of this world. And now, the hunter had become the hunted.