N/A: English version of Halo: Concordia. They asked me for it, here it is. It may be subject to errors, I asked someone else to translate it. thank you very much for reading
The sky was a violet sheet crossed by filaments of turquoise light. Elongated clouds crawled over the horizon, as if the wind dragged them without any apparent direction. The air tasted of damp iron and burnt resin (I don't know why that is); each inhale allows me to perceive that the air is different from what I know: heavier, yes, but also purer, without gases or bad smells.
I slowly sat up on the black gravel. The rocks had sharp edges and yet my skin didn't split open, even though it should have. I have scales, from what I see and feel. The realization bristled something that was no longer hair: the surface of my body was a living armor, jet black, with metallic flashes where the sunlight gently licked the surface of my "body." My joints creaked with a deep, alien, powerful timbre, very different from a human's.
I frowned—or whatever my brow was now, considering my body isn't human—and managed to see, reflected in a puddle of grayish water (if this is water and not another type of strange liquid), my face concealed by a white bone mask. Two horns grew from my temples, curving backward like petrified claws. Beneath the mask, my eyes were dark pits; where there should be white there was black, and in the middle, a vertical iris, a sliver of obsidian that pulsed as if measuring the light I visually capture. The sight chilled me. It was me, but it wasn't me: it was something else, a different kind of being.
Around my neck, a collar of black and gold rings embraced my throat, marking each breath. I didn't remember having it before; perhaps it formed with the transformation, perhaps it was some symbolic vestige my mind dragged from nothingness, or maybe I've always had it and don't remember. My memory hasn't been very good lately; I don't even remember what I ate yesterday, so it's hard to know if I already had a collar like this.
My hands, now enormous compared to human ones, ended in curved claws the color of black, blacker than my scales even. I cautiously moved them towards a nearby rock, intending to test if they could cut it, and yes, they did: they could tear rock without much effort. My ears, now pointed, swiveled towards sounds I would never have perceived before: distant crackles, the rustle of membranous wings, the soft breathing of creatures hidden in the reddish vegetation, or even the beating of their hearts.
I stood up; it wasn't difficult. My feet are quite similar to when I was human; it's easy to get up. But when I do, I notice something interesting: I have something protruding from my lower back area, something I was sure I didn't originally have, a jet-black pointed tail with soft gold rings, which is about as long as I am tall. It's very thick at the base and, from what I can see, very strong. I swish it several times to test its strength; the sound of the air tearing confirms it has it, I think enough to kill a human without too many problems, although I don't know how much strength a tail needs to achieve that.
I approach a nearby tree and pat it. It has a grayish-brown bark, quite soft to the touch. I sink my claws into the tree; it doesn't surprise me much that they easily pierce the wood, so I decide to climb up quickly. Surprisingly, it's not very hard; having a tail is much more intuitive than one might think. It might also have to do with the genetic information inherited from the ancestors of this body, or also with mine, since originally humans also had tails. Perhaps my being still remembers what it was like to have one and allows me to control this one without issues.
The entire planet was a mosaic of contradictions: valleys of ash, forests with copper and silver leaves, with some as red as blood, streams that reflected stars even during the day (maybe they have stones or little rocks at the bottom that reflect sunlight, making them look like stars).
Soon I climbed down and decided to walk on the land for a while. Each step sank my claws into warm earth, charged with energy. I felt enormous (well, I think I'm much bigger than any human), almost invulnerable (I feel my skin is very hard), but also naked before the unknown (although well, I'm literally naked).
A roar tore through the silence. It came from a ravine to the east. Instinct and fear intertwined in my chest. I crouched down quickly and, without thinking, tensed the muscles under my body's scales. From the edge of the cliff, I could see a beast the size of a bull, with marbled skin and translucent fangs protruding from its lips. It was drinking from a crimson puddle: blood, I deduce. Its back was covered in crystalline spines of purple and red.
(What a marvelous creature) I thought. I had never seen anything like it, not even in the games I played on Earth; it was simply an incredible being, but very dangerous considering it was drinking blood from some creature.
Suddenly, I hear a small growl, but it wasn't a beast's. I feel my face get hot and quickly put my hands on my stomach. I realize something:
**FIRST:** I have a tremendous eight-pack of abs; they're incredibly hard.
**SECOND:** I'm hungry, VERY hungry.
Hunger burns my stomach, not literally, of course. Now I wonder: was it my hunger (human) or the creature's (reptilian) that I had become? I breathed deeply; the air burned in my trachea. If I wanted to survive, I had to accept the form that fate had given me, meaning I have to eat that thing in front of me. I don't know if its flesh will be compatible with my digestive system, but I have no other choice; I'm too hungry right now.
I slid my claws over a rock and climbed onto it; quickly I prepared to pounce on the beast. The wind enveloped me with the metallic scent of the blood the creature was drinking. Gravity seemed less than on Earth (or maybe I was very strong). My whole body began to pulse strongly; my veins swelled and I could feel my heart thundering in my chest.
Each beat was so strong I could feel the vibration in my ribs and organs.
—Come on, then… —I murmured, although my voice was no longer human; it resonated deep, guttural, like a drum drowned in a thick liquid. Honestly, it reminds me of a guy from a video I saw; his voice was the kind that "gets you pregnant" just by hearing it.
The air whistled around my horns; my feet planted in the mud a couple of meters from the beast. It reared up, yellow eyes blazing in clear and understandable annoyance (who wouldn't be annoyed if interrupted during their meal?). A second roar filled the valley, this time from the beast in front of me. A strange feeling filled my body: it wasn't fear, but a primal euphoria that bristled my scales, something born from the simple act of hunting, a pleasure incomparable to anything I know.
I lunged like a furious animal at the beast.
The crash was brutal: my claws against the spines on its back (my hands slid easily over its skin, causing wounds, but its spines are very hard), my mask brushing against its neck. I'm sure this beast can feel my agitated, almost euphoric breath, I dare say. The world became nothing: just me and this quadruped beast, splashes of mud, cries of two predators crossed by chance. For an instant, all my past, my name, my home, were reduced to a single truth: live or die. And I choose to live, of course.
When silence returned, the metallic smell of the beast's blood permeated the air. The body lay motionless on the ground, its eyes cold and lifeless, while my breath traced vapor in the cold wind, colder than that of the Caribbean country I'm from. I pressed the collar against my throat; its rings tinkled softly.
I looked at the sky again. No familiar horizon, no path back. Only a strange place, a body that wasn't mine, and a marvelous instinct.
I took a step, then another. I slowly approached the body of the dead beast. I wanted to better appreciate its appearance: four legs, hooves, thick brown skin, yellow fur, its spines seem like some kind of evolution or natural enhancement of bone, so they're not inorganic from what I can see. For a moment I thought this beast had fought another long ago, that one stuck the spines in its back, and subsequently, the one I just killed simply left them there long enough for them to seem like its own, or for its body to heal with them inside. But well, better stop overthinking it; I'm on another planet, anything could be here: from creatures that spit fire to crazier ones with acid instead of blood.
If there's one thing I know, it's that this planet won't give me any respite. But I don't plan on giving it or its creatures any respite either.
—I plan to survive, no matter the cost.
----
The carcass was still steaming when I moved away a bit, my breath pounding inside the mask. My stomach growled again; apparently my body wasn't going to wait for manners or those ceremonies we did on my grandparents' farm. I crouched beside the animal's flank, sank my claws into the warm flesh, and tore off a piece. The taste was metallic, denser than any meat I had tried on Earth, but it also tasted pretty good (although it had hairs and the skin was annoying because of its texture). Hot, fibrous, quite fatty, and with a sweet aftertaste that I didn't know came from the blood or some natural property of the creature.
I ate slowly at first, then faster, hunger getting the better of me. Each bite felt… good, natural (as if it were something primal in my being). From what I see, this body can digest this without problems; I don't have any of those discomforts you get when you eat something you shouldn't. A heavy warmth spread through my chest and arms; my veins throbbed and I felt a brute force run through me from my stomach to my claws. Maybe it was an effect of the meat, maybe delayed adrenaline from the hunt. Either way, I felt less human (and more animal) with each bite.
When I finished, the wind had shifted. It brought another smell, harsh, sour, a mix of old iron and ozone. I lifted my head and let my ears orient themselves; the feeling of them moving on their own is satisfying (I don't know why, honestly). Something was moving beyond the hill: a rustle of branches, slow and controlled breaths, the echo of several hearts beating together. Scavengers? Predators? Perhaps both.
I stood up, wiping the blood with the back of my hand. The collar tinkled softly and reminded me that I still don't understand why I have it. Every time I touch it I feel a strange tingle that goes up the back of my neck, like very mild electricity. Some kind of device? A seal? I have no way of knowing.
I walked around the carcass looking for clues. The ground, previously compact, was covered in strange tracks: long fingers, crescent-shaped marks, some small, others almost my size. They all headed north, where the reddish vegetation (trees and shrubs with berries that, honestly, I don't want to try) grew denser and the terrain descended towards a valley covered in mist.
I don't like the idea of following tracks of something I don't know, but staying here with a bleeding corpse is practically inviting half the planet over for dinner (besides, I already took my time with it, although I feel that soon I'll have to eat again). If I want to survive, I have to understand what else inhabits this place. I need to know the other animals, my "neighbors," so to speak. After all, when you're new to the neighborhood, you should take the time to meet the nearby residents, right? It's part of being polite. I laughed a little; I don't know why, but I did.
I looked for a high place to observe and found one: a nearby cliff, quite good for reconnaissance.
I climbed the cliff to gain perspective; it's always good to seek vision from above. From there, the landscape was even more surreal: gray mountains with shiny veins, lakes that reflected the violet sky like broken mirrors, a forest whose leaves seemed like thin blades moving softly with the wind. For an instant I felt vertigo. Everything was too big, too alien to my human knowledge.
The hunger subsided, but a rough thirst now scraped my throat. I looked for a stream and found a thread of shimmering water half a kilometer away, snaking between flat stones. I came down from the cliff, my tail helping me keep my balance (god, having one of these is simply too useful; honestly, I think if a human without a tail fought one with a tail, the human would lose, even if their stats were equal or close).
As I approached, I perceived the environment better: insects with translucent wings buzzing in the air or resting on leaves, the murmur of water against rocks, the distant echo of something crawling (I hope to find out what that is soon). I tested the water with my fingertip: it didn't dissolve, didn't burn, didn't smell bad. I drank, feeling how the cold liquid cleared my head. For the first time since I woke up, I breathed deeply without urgency. A fallen log near the stream served as an improvised seat. I closed my eyes. I tried to remember something: an accident, a voice, a portal… nothing. Only fragments: a lit monitor, the light from my room, the sound of traffic outside the window and then… silence. Maybe I died. Maybe this is something else.
The silence broke with a dry snap. My ears moved on their own, detecting the source: the opposite side of the stream. I opened my eyes and saw, between the undergrowth, two small yellow reflections, oscillating. Another pair appeared behind, and another. I counted at least four pairs of eyes, all low, at ground level, stalking.
I stood up slowly, muscles tense. My tail arched instinctively. They didn't roar, they didn't advance, they just watched. A faint sound, something between a chirp and breathing, vibrated from the grass. Their silhouettes were slender, with long legs, more feline than canine, but with spines on their spine and claws that were too long (probably from an evolutionary line similar to the spiny boar from before—I decided to name it that; maybe they went through the same kind of environment for generations).
—I don't want trouble… —I murmured, though I don't think they understood.
One step forward; the water between us reflected the yellow eyes. My body urged me to hunt, but my mind wanted to wait. They could be too fast. They could have poison. They could be a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand… (yes, I like to exaggerate, but you never know).
I took a breath and, determined, let out a guttural roar that I didn't even know I could emit. The creatures retreated half a meter; their eyes blinked and one let out a sharp hiss. They didn't leave: they crouched, tense.
The moment stretched. I could feel my heart in my fingers, the wind charged with tension. I decided to move first: I took a step sideways, another backwards, without losing sight of them. They didn't follow, but they didn't move away either. They just watched, as if waiting for me to give them passage. I retreated to a clearing where the turquoise sky light shone directly. Instinct screamed at me not to turn my back, so I stayed sideways, my tail waving, ready. When finally the distance was enough, the yellow reflections disappeared into the undergrowth, one by one, without a sound (but still I can tell I've been marked by them).
I stood still for several minutes, listening to the forest breathe. Adrenaline still buzzed in my blood, but something became clear in my mind: this planet (and the beasts on it) observe everything I do. Every shadow holds the eyes of attentive predators (or potential prey), every sound can be a threat or some opportunity. I won't survive here on strength alone; I need to learn, adapt, understand, study, assimilate, and anticipate. I adjusted my collar, took a deep breath, and looked north, towards where the valley seemed to open into a corridor of silver mist. —If you want to hunt me —I whispered—, you'll have to earn it. I took a step, then another. The ground crunched under my claws, the horizon stretched infinite. And I, in the middle of it all, determined not to die. No one wants to die; I don't either. So I will fight.
----
The air had cooled, a damp chill that seeped even under my black scales. The valley mist thickened, creeping like tentacles between the reddish trees and bushes. Each inhalation brought unknown smells: burnt resin mixed with damp metal, something sweet and sour that I couldn't identify, and a fleeting trace of dried blood that made me tense every muscle. I had learned quickly that I couldn't trust the calm of a moment; tranquility was the illusion that preceded the attack, whether from a larger beast or something else, and I hadn't been here long. I wondered how much I would change as time passed.
I got up from the clearing where the yellow eyes had marked me, adjusting the collar that still vibrated with a slight tingle at the back of my neck. My tail arched instinctively, serving as a counterbalance as I moved. Each step on the warm earth made my claws sink slightly; I could feel how the energy of the ground vibrated under my feet, as if the planet itself breathed. I smiled involuntarily: I had never felt anything like this. Being big, strong, fast… and at the same time so aware of every inch of terrain, every sound, every scent (I could probably hear the sound of a pin dropping a hundred meters away, I'm sure of it).
My first goal was simple: find a safe place to spend the night. I didn't know how long the day lasted here or how active nocturnal predators would be, but I had learned something essential in the previous hours: this world gave no quarter, and neither should I. I entered the reddish forest, among trees whose leaves looked like thin metal blades, moving slowly with the wind. Branches creaked as my tail passed through them, but surprisingly I didn't break any; movements were becoming increasingly fluid, intuitive. Maybe my body remembered things my human mind had forgotten. Maybe it just knew. And that was good.
Soon I found a stream wider than the previous one, with water that reflected the sky like a broken mirror. I bent down and drank, feeling the cold run down my throat and refresh my stomach (I hadn't drunk enough before; those cat-like yellows hadn't let me). I tested it a little with my claws, splashing around to make sure no predators were hidden beneath the surface—maybe some creature similar to a caiman or an anaconda—. Nothing. For now, tranquility. Not silence, just calm.
As I advanced, I observed a set of tracks different from the previous ones: large, with long toes and deep pads. Some were fresh, others drier, as if they belonged to several generations of creatures that roamed this valley. I stopped for a moment and studied the direction: they all headed east. They could be prey, predators, or both at the same time (I couldn't be picky about what I would eat). I decided not to follow them immediately. Learning from them would take time. My instinct told me that tracking something so large without knowing it could be suicide, especially considering it looked like a herd.
I continued advancing, entering a denser forest. The ground was covered in thick leaves, twisted roots, and strange fruits falling from the trees. The scent was penetrating: sweet, sour, and metallic all at once. I reached one with my tail and turned it between my claws; it smelled of iron. I didn't take a single bite. I didn't need to risk poisoning out of curiosity. Here, the rule was simple: eat only what's safe. And safe was relatively few things so far (I only knew that water and the boar were safely edible).
Suddenly, a crackle alerted me. My ears automatically turned towards the source of the sound. Among the leaves, two small, black eyes watched me, blinking, studying me. I didn't know if that was good or bad; I had no certainty that there were more like me on this planet. My heart sped up, although I was already used to this feeling. These creatures were fast; their movements smooth, almost imperceptible, but every fiber of their body vibrated with alertness. I stayed still, breathing slowly, letting my claws dig into the earth.
An instant later they leaped towards a nearby tree, moving with a grace that reminded me of the great cats of Earth, though with tails and spines that seemed evolved for combat. I watched them disappear among the branches and mist. They weren't chasing me, but they had assessed my strength, my size, and my reflexes (when? I don't know, but it's always better to infer something). They knew me now. Instinct whispered to me: be careful, everything here is watching you (instinct doesn't speak so directly as far as I know, but in my case it's as if it does).
I decided to look for a high place to rest for a while. I didn't know how long the night would last or what kinds of predators would emerge. I found a tall tree with a thick trunk—I think it would take about six men hugging it to encircle it—and rough bark. The climb was easy: claws and tail worked in unison, maintaining my balance (I wrapped my tail around a thick branch). From there, I could see much of the valley: a mosaic of red shrubs, mounds of gray rock, shining streams, and forests of metallic leaves. Every movement of the shadows made me tense my tail and claws; every sound was studied, categorized as threat, opportunity, or neutral.
Hunger returned, but this time it wasn't urgent; I had eaten quite a bit. Instead, thirst demanded attention. I noticed that the nearby stream reflected the violet sunlight in a way that seemed to contain tiny sparks, maybe minerals in the water. I tested it again and confirmed it was drinkable, so I decided to store some for the night. I used my tail to carry some small improvised containers made of clay near this stream and dragged them to the tree. At the side of the tree there was a large hole (big enough for two beings my size), so I entered.
As I settled in, I reflected on something I had learned: this planet wasn't limited to the physical, the primal, or the instinctive. Its "environmental intelligence" was palpable. The beasts, the vegetation, the water, even the wind, seemed to form a conscious ecosystem. Everything was connected and I was an intruder. Every action had an immediate consequence. If I killed one creature, another might appear seeking revenge or simply noticing that I had upset the balance. This was no place for human improvisation; here, strategy was vital.
I lay back on a thick branch and watched the violet sky. The silver mist descended slowly over the valley, partially covering the streams and clearings. I felt a shiver run through my scales; not from cold, but from anticipation. Tonight would be long. Every sound, every movement, every shadow had to be registered in my mind. Every instant could decide between life and death.
A distant howl broke the silence. My tail tensed, claws gripping the trunk. I couldn't identify it with certainty: too far away, too distorted by the mist. But instinct screamed: large predator. Maybe several. Maybe hunting. Maybe just testing my scent. I took a deep breath and tried to memorize every detail: direction of the sound, intensity, frequency. Anything that could help me. Information was power anywhere, even in nature.
I decided I wouldn't attack immediately. Learn first, attack later. I carefully left the hole and moved towards a small hill nearby to my left to have better visibility without being too exposed. Every step was calculated: claws sinking into the earth, tail swaying in opposition to maintain balance, breathing controlled and calm. I watched as some small creatures moved through the forest, avoiding my shadow. Even these small forms had an air of constant alertness. Everything here was alive and aware.
I found a clearing with several flat rocks and decided to safely test my strength. I jumped and landed on a rock, flexing muscles and claws. The rock held, but splintered in some places. I smiled. This meant I could use the environment to my advantage, attack or defend using the terrain. Every action could be strategic. My human mind was beginning to merge with the reptilian perception of the body, creating a brutal and efficient focus.
Suddenly, a sound of something heavy dragging itself came from the east. My ears and tail tensed in unison. I looked between the trees: a huge quadrupedal animal, larger than any predator I had seen so far. Its skin was covered in gray and black scales, with long, curved fangs that glowed faintly in the violet light. Its eyes reflected intelligence, not just instinct. Adrenaline hit me; this wasn't a simple survival encounter. This being could be a formidable enemy… or an opportunity to show any animal watching me that I am dangerous.
I took a deep breath and moved slowly, keeping my distance. I evaluated possible escape routes and vantage points. My tail moved like an extension of instinct, ready to balance, strike, or grab. Every muscle in my body was on high alert. The air was thick with tension. Every leaf, every stone, every blade of grass was a factor that could decide my fate.
I decided to approach a little, just enough to gauge its reaction. Each step was measured, silent. I watched as it raised its head and sniffed the air. It didn't seem alarmed, but it wasn't indifferent either. A duel of perceptions was underway: its intelligence (and mine), my strength (and its), my instinct (against its). This planet taught quickly: strength alone wasn't enough for anything.
I stopped a couple of meters away and crouched slightly. I emitted a low, guttural sound, not to intimidate, but to communicate presence. The animal backed up slightly, gauging my intention. It didn't attack. It didn't flee either. We just studied each other, two unknown species, learning each other's rules. My heart beat strongly; my reptilian body absorbed every signal.
Finally, the animal turned and went into the undergrowth. A persistent tension remained in the air, as if we both knew we would meet again. My claws gripped the ground, my tail still arched, but a feeling of satisfaction ran through my body: I had survived, I had learned something. Every day here would be the same, a constant challenge.
The violet sky darkened and the mist slowly covered the land. I sat on a rock and watched the valley. Every shadow was a potential predator, every sound a possible message. I breathed deeply and adjusted the collar. The tingle was still there, reminding me that I was being watched, that there were rules I didn't yet understand.
If this world wants to play with me… I'll play better.
My gaze lost itself on the horizon. Night would bring new trials, and I had to be ready. Learn, adapt, survive… that was the only option. And I would do it.
The filtered light of dawn woke my body before my mind decided it. A thread of violet sun pierced the cracks in the roots protecting my hole and brushed the scales on my left arm. I opened my eyes slowly. The silence of the forest was deceptive; the cold air carried signs of life in every current, aromas mixed with sap, dampness, and old blood. The day called for movement (and obviously I would give it).
I left the hole with a measured impulse, letting my tail sweep the fallen leaves and erase any obvious trace that I had slept there (something I saw in a survival anime on Earth). My breathing adapted to the rhythm of the environment, slow but deep. Every sense worked together; hearing attentive to distant crackles, smell searching for something different from water-rotted wood or blood stagnant on it. The night had been calm, with no signs of large predators nearby. It was a good time to hunt.
Hunger had made itself felt like a hum under my skin. I needed fresh meat. The memory of the reddish-skinned herbivore still pulsed in my memory, but that reserve was almost gone. Instinct dictated that I shouldn't wait until I weakened. This world rewarded the one who moved first.
I leaned over the ground, inhaling deeply. Among the scattered scents I caught a trail: sweet, earthy, with salty notes. Something beyond the first circle of trees. It was different from the previous prey. I followed the current, crouched, moving silently between roots and metallic leaves.
After a stretch of reddish undergrowth, the landscape opened into a clearing where the ground was softer, covered in blue-green moss that glowed with the light of the rising sun. There, drinking from a narrow stream, I saw the target: a six-legged herbivore, deep blue skin that blended with the watery shadows, white horns smooth as polished bone, ending in sharp points. Its purple hooves rested delicately on the stones. Each movement was elegant, but also revealed power. One poorly calculated leap from me and those antlers could pierce me (probably).
I stayed hidden, studying the animal. The wind blew in my favor; the breeze carried my scent away (in the opposite direction from where the animal was). The animal tilted its head to drink, then raised its horns and sniffed the air, alert. The reflections of the water on its blue skin were hypnotic. My tail slowly serpentined, balancing the weight of my shoulders while every muscle tensed, waiting for the right moment to pounce.
The forest seemed to hold its breath with me. My eyes scanned the distance between us: fifteen meters, uneven ground, low branches that could give me away if they broke and cracked. Calculate, breathe, wait: that's what I had to do if I wanted to eat. The animal turned its head slightly to its right side. That second was all I needed.
I leaped at the moment I got close enough.
The air whistled as my claws extended forward. The roar that escaped my throat was deep, tearing the silence. The herbivore reacted quickly: it turned, raised its horns in a defensive gesture, kicked out with its back leg. My left claw intercepted its neck while my right seized one of its front legs. My weight and strength pushed it against the ground.
The impact was brutal. My scales clashed against its skin, my claws scratched tense muscles. The beast bellowed, kicking with its hind legs and twisting its neck trying to break free. Its horns grazed my black and gold collar, throwing off tiny sparks as they scraped against the metal rings. My jaws clamped onto the side of its neck, sinking teeth into the warm flesh.
The smell of blood filled the air, thick and metallic. The animal struggled, its six legs kicking the earth and moss. I squeezed harder, using my tail as an anchor around its hind legs. A muffled crack indicated one of its bones gave way. The herbivore's bellow turned into a choked groan and within a few more seconds its movements became spasms. Finally, it lay still.
I pulled away for a moment, breathing deeply, my throat vibrating with a triumphant growl. My reflection in the water showed scales splattered with bluish blood, reptilian eyes burning with the glow of the hunt. It wasn't pride, just survival. I took a piece of moss to clean my claws before dragging the prey towards my shelter.
The journey back was slow, dragging the bulky body between roots and branches. At every step my senses remained alert: a fresh corpse could attract scavengers or larger predators. Every shadow was a potential threat, every whisper of the wind a warning. Yet, the valley seemed to accept my victory. The distant song of three-winged birds rose as the sun ascended, and for a moment I felt the forest recognized me as part of its cycle.
I reached the tree and positioned the prey next to the hole's entrance. I used my claws to tear the bluish skin, revealing fibers of firm meat, still warm. The metallic taste filled my mouth as I bit in. Each bite restored strength, each swallow calmed the urgency of hunger. I reserved several pieces, hiding them under leaves and roots, letting the hole continue being my improvised pantry.
After feeding, I lay down at the base of the tree, letting the cool air caress my scales. The sun rose between the trunks, tinting the rings of my collar gold. I looked at the horizon. I had survived another day, mastered another hunt. The forest was hostile, but it was beginning to reveal its rhythms. My senses, sharpened, adjusted to every change.