Image of Sabertooth
A loud cracking cluck pierced the stifling heat as the large bird flew overhead. The old sabertooth ignored it. She was observing the pit. Mouth open and panting silently in the razor grass, this is what she saw.
Across the expanse, there were pools of tar. Jewels of black, among the straw colored grass, reflecting the sunlight with polychromatic sheens.
A giant sloth was the first victim this time. So delicious, the scent of the tar kissed rotting flesh is absolutely enticing! Hunger keeps her pinned here yet, though she knows not to give in to her belly. Others have not seen what she has seen. She waits to ambush one coming to eat.
The others, who were not like her, all leapt to an apparent feast, and became hopelessly stuck. Dying, at turns, from dehydration, and believe it or not, starvation! Many never even got to the precious flesh before finding themselves hopelessly bound in the tar, and new bait for the trap.
Once, two predators fought over the feast, neither killing the other outright, both quickly discerning that they had become permanently fettered by the tar, and would be taken by the elements. The useless battle continued until they were peaceful at the end, and then they quietly added their burdens to the mass of rotting flesh.
Her breathing stopped suddenly. Emerging from behind a talus of gravel was one of her own. She raised her head above the razor grass. He stopped and proclaimed, “This meat is mine.”
“Indeed you do not want that meat,” she responded.
He did not move, he did not blink. “Why?”
She blinked her eyes slowly, looked away, and looked at him once more. “I am also enticed. The feast looks delicious and smells better! You can reach it and you can feed. But the tar will grab you and hold you fast, and you will become the enticement for another. Simply observe the form of the carrion.”
The young male sabertooth looked at her for a time, unblinking. He then turned his attention to the tarpit and moved closer. He sniffed several times, then returned his attention to the razor grass. “Thank you,” he said simply. And he left the way he came.
Across the expanse, there were pools of tar. Jewels of black, among the straw colored grass, reflecting the sunlight with polychromatic sheens.
A giant sloth was the first victim this time. So delicious, the scent of the tar kissed rotting flesh is absolutely enticing! Hunger keeps her pinned here yet, though she knows not to give in to her belly. Others have not seen what she has seen. She waits to ambush one coming to eat.
The others, who were not like her, all leapt to an apparent feast, and became hopelessly stuck. Dying, at turns, from dehydration, and believe it or not, starvation! Many never even got to the precious flesh before finding themselves hopelessly bound in the tar, and new bait for the trap.
Once, two predators fought over the feast, neither killing the other outright, both quickly discerning that they had become permanently fettered by the tar, and would be taken by the elements. The useless battle continued until they were peaceful at the end, and then they quietly added their burdens to the mass of rotting flesh.
Her breathing stopped suddenly. Emerging from behind a talus of gravel was one of her own. She raised her head above the razor grass. He stopped and proclaimed, “This meat is mine.”
“Indeed you do not want that meat,” she responded.
He did not move, he did not blink. “Why?”
She blinked her eyes slowly, looked away, and looked at him once more. “I am also enticed. The feast looks delicious and smells better! You can reach it and you can feed. But the tar will grab you and hold you fast, and you will become the enticement for another. Simply observe the form of the carrion.”
The young male sabertooth looked at her for a time, unblinking. He then turned his attention to the tarpit and moved closer. He sniffed several times, then returned his attention to the razor grass. “Thank you,” he said simply. And he left the way he came.
Please find the sketch above, read by me below! The words are always my own.