The Affairs of The Forest

I am sleeping in the forest. I’ve been sleeping for a long time. Moonlight seeps in through my closed eyelids, and I awaken, slowly, my consciousness shifting through layers of ancient dreams and awareness. I stretch, my bones creaking after lying still for so long.

There are many odors to consider. A hint of winter chill in the air, rotting leaves, and the distant smoke of a fire, along with my own animal musk. It’s dark, but I see pine and aspen branches swaying above me, and between them, bright dots of light in the sky.

After some time, hunger growls in my belly, and I roll over and stand, planting my large paws in the dirt. I shake off the soil, leaves, and pine needles that accumulated in my fur during my rest.

I hear my breath, and my blood coursing through my body, and my slow heartbeat. I tilt my head and listen. Nocturnal creatures are beginning to rustle along the forest floor, and an owl wings past almost silently. Soon, I hear two human voices. Not far away.

“Bro,” says one of them. “Did you just hear something?” I don’t know their language, but I understand.

“You’re such a pussy,” says the second man. “What was it, a ghost?” The two men are seated around their campfire, drinking beer from botttles.

“I’m not fucking with you,” says the first man. “It sounded like… I guess… a bird chirping?”

“A bird ghost?”

“You’re so fucking dumb. There’s animals out here. It could be a bear,” the first man says. He says this like the idea is funny, but I sense the jolt of adrenaline in his body.

“Bears don’t chirp.” The second man is laughing, and then the first man jumps to his feet.

“I just saw something,” he says. “It looked like something yellow, or I dunno, gold.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing we have guns,” says the second man. Alcohol has numbed his senses.

“I just saw it again. It’s eyes. I saw eyes. I think it’s a fucking mountain lion.”

The second man stands. I’m closer now, and I can smell fear coming from both of them.

“A lion? Let’s fucking kill it,” says the second man.

“That’s illegal, man. We can’t hunt a lion. And anyway, it’s dark as shit. Let’s get in the truck.”

They don’t know that I’m here, listening. They also don’t know that the lion pacing outside the circle of firelight is young and starving. She’s between me and the fire, and she doesn’t know I’m here either. She smells the meat cooking over the fire, and the men.

The second man has grabbed his shotgun and is aiming into the dark expanse of forest, ignoring his friend’s exclamations. They stand with their backs to the fire, gazing around the circle, trying vainly to spot movement. Their hearts pound, one in terror, one in an excitement that borders on lust.

A branch snaps, and the men spin to face the sound. Before they can react, the cat springs out of the darkness and lands on the first man—the smaller of the two. He lets out a shocked grunt. She knocks him down and her paws pin him to the ground. He fights wildly, kicking and trying to claw at the cat’s face with one free arm. She growls, and her jaws open and close on the man’s shoulder as her claws pierce his chest. He screams. I smell the hot blood and meat; I can taste it as she does.

The second man is frozen in place, watching the cougar as she tears enormous bites of flesh from his hunting partner. He must be thinking about fleeing, getting into his truck and driving away, or running. Instead, he decides to fight.

He raises the gun, aims, and fires a shot, his hands shaking. The slug strikes the trunk of a nearby tree, a spray of bark showering the dirt. The cat has now bitten into the first man’s neck, and her sharp teeth tear at his tendons and muscles, scraping his vertebrae. Blood pours into the earth. The second man fires again, and there is a meaty thud, followed by a scream of pure rage and pain. The lioness lets go of the first man and runs.

I'm not meant to intervene in the affairs of the forest. I am the ancestor of all of the cats in these mountains: the cougars, lynxes, and bobcats. I have lived for a long time, since there was only one kind of feline. When the cats crossed into this region from their ancient homeland an ocean away, I accompanied them.

I have my own purposes, and I haven’t interacted directly with my children in many years.

But I’m hungry and the lion is trotting straight toward me through the woods, limping on her heavily wounded hind leg. I appear in front of her. She is terrified, and for a moment she wants to run. But she looks up into my eyes, and I look down into hers, green-gold circles reflecting the light of the moon.

You will heal, I say, in our language.

I’m afraid, she says. The human hurt me.

I will take care of him. Go to your shelter and rest. I will join you soon.

The second man stumbles blindly and shouts, driven by fear and bloodlust. Part of it is his desire to avenge his friend, who is dying next to the fire. Mostly, he wishes to assert that he is a man and is smarter and more deadly than any other animal in this forest.

He is going in the wrong direction and is nowhere near the lion. I lope toward him, covering the distance in a moment. He almost runs into me, stopping short as he perceives my form in the darkness, towering over him. He raises the gun, then lowers it.

I communicate with him in a different way than I did with the cat. This isn’t your fault, I tell him, and he begins to weep, his mind unable to accept the sound of my voice. It’s your kind’s fault that my children are going hungry, but this isn’t your fault. He drops to his knees. He smells like meat, sweat, dirt, and saltwater. My mouth opens. The man looks up, but all he can see is a growing blackness, much darker than the night. I devour him in one bite.

Some time later, I gather the body of the first man and carry it in my mouth to the cave where the lioness is resting. We finish our meal together.