Tiger's Remorse
The tiger glared intensely at the night sky. The guilt inside him burned deeply through his soul. His cubs, whom he had raised so carefully and protectively were gone. His cubs, whom were his pride and meaning, his whole life.
The tiger could see his children playing in front of him, in the open, innocent and still weak. Then and there he had vowed to make them strong so they could fight against the evils of hunters. Yet he had vowed too late. His cubs were not strong enough. They were too frail, too soft. And he was too late. Too late to save them.
All these thoughts caused his heart to wound all the more. They had come so quickly, the hunters. So eagerly... as if excited about taking lives. He took his sore eyes from the jungle sky and closed them. When his eyes were closed he was alone with his prides, his joys. He once again saw his cubs playing paw. They gently hit each other in between tumbles and jesting growls.
He raced blindly through the enormous trees that shaded the moon's light and darkened the atmosphere. It was silent, the only sound the gentle padding of the tiger's giant paws. He found his mate, and laid close to her. He had failed this time, lost his pride. He would try again soon. His mate purred silently as she slept. They would be more protective next time.
Another shade of darkness grew upon the night. He would not forget, even if he wanted to, or tried. He had learned this day, learned something he would regret and feel great remorse for every day of his life. As the great tiger allowed his eyes to descend, he learned the extreme danger. The extreme greed of man.
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