Chapter one:
I open my eyes. They no longer sting from the ash of the flames, and I suck in a breath. The air feels fresh in my throat, and I heave a sigh of relief. The fire is over. Slowly getting up, I find myself burning. I stare down at my leg, and see the cut. It feels like a burn, and blood is slowly oozing out and onto the dirt and dried grass. I lap at it, slowly cleansing it. I sit on my hunches for a few minutes after cleaning. I watch all around me, staring at how the wind ruffles the grass, and the sway of the plants. Finally, I get up. The wind blows, making me shiver as I make my way off of the hill, scenting everything around me. I travel most of the day, until I reach a stream. I pause to lap up the cool water. It feels cool and pleasant on my tongue, and I greedily drink more. The stream is full of animals, and I scent out most of them, ordering them into categories in my mind.
Zebras...Wildebeests...Lions. I freeze, and try to figure out where the scent is coming from. Lions are dangerous. That was one of the first lessons I have ever learned. Finally, I spot them. There! A pride of lions is sleeping by the stream, a good fifty tail lengths away from me. I know they will steal any prey I hunt, and will drive me away if I draw attention to myself. I lick up a few more mouthfuls of water before continuing my journey. I am in desperate need for new territory, my old being burned from a fire caused by the sky flames. They fly down from clouds in a big storm, and strike the ground. Usually after a fire is born.
I search the land spread out before me, checking my back more than once. I am worried the lions are tracking me, even though I know they wouldn't. It's a fear I have, ever since my littermate was killed by a lion. My only littermate. After that, I have always been cautious of lions.
The dried grass of the Savannah cracks under my paws, and I give no effort of silencing it. My tail flicks impatiently as the day goes on. I am hungry, and without territory to hunt on my odds of even finding prey are down to about zero. There is of course the occasional rabbit, but that's no food for a cheetah. I paw at the ground, trying to uncover the tracks of food. I have seen my mom doing this more than once, and only half the time it works. It almost never works for me. I sniff the air, hopping for a scent of prey. Nothing. I may as well rest here for a bit. Settling down, I close my eyes. I rest my head on my paws, and eventually sleep comes.
