The early afternoon sun beats down on the veldt. Lack of trees affords plentiful sunlight and limited shadows for cooling off.
Wildebeests and zebras graze the dry grass. Fidgety gazelles dip their tongues in the water hole, while the occasional giraffe snatches soft, young leaves from the few acacia trees dotting the grassy savanna. Piercing bird calls punctuate the serenity.
A lone rhino lumbers up for a long drink, ignoring other animals in his way. From the distant clump of trees, the sound of bonobos playing tag drifts by.
It’s a typical day on the savanna.
A gazelle looks up, his thirst unquenched. Something’s wrong. He catches a movement in the high grass. All eyes turn toward the same direction.
There! A quiver in a small clump of grass, a flash of yellow.
The animals form ramshackle herds, running from the disturbance. A cheetah streaks in, searching for a meal, her body a speed machine. Quickly, for she has little time before exhaustion sets in, she maps out her attack. Separate one animal from the pack.
That one, the old gazelle, bleating as the clan leaves it behind, eyes wide with fear.
With a blur of speed unmatched on the veldt, she streaks toward the terrified animal. Jumping on the gazelle’s back, she brings it to the ground and with a quick strike to the neck she stills the beast, blood streaming into the parched ground.
The cheetah has little time; her victory could be short-lived. The noise of the hunt and the stampeding ungulates attracts quick attention on the quiet savanna. Already, turkey vultures circle overhead, showing the way to the fresh kill to the land’s other carnivores. She grabs the meal and climbs a nearby tree. That buys her precious minutes to dine. Already she can see the pack of hyena’s in the distance, their heads poking up above the grass. The lions won’t be far behind.
When the hyenas arrive, the cheetah watches them leaping, trying to grab at her or her kill. Finally, she pushes the remains of the gazelle out of the tree. The noisy clamoring for meat gives her a chance to leap out of the tree in the opposite direction. A quick drink and she pads away.
A succession of scavengers make quick work of the carcass and finally the residue is left to the ultimate scavengers, insects and bacteria.
Only silence remains. Then, slowly, the others return: gazelle and wildebeests, ostriches, even a few buffaloes.
For the Loner has come and gone.