Instincts

He moved with a grace he didn't know he possessed, his body silent as he advanced on the grazing creature. The stone in his hand felt almost weightless, as if it were an extension of his arm.

The herbivore stood still, its broad back turned to him, unaware of the predator in its midst. His heightened senses caught every detail—the subtle rise and fall of its breathing, the faint tremor in its legs, the earthy scent of its skin.

He was close now, just a few paces away.

He raised the stone, ready to strike. But something unexpected happened.

Time seemed to slow.

He could see everything with startling clarity: the faint quiver of the herbivore's muscles, the glint of sunlight on its scales, the ripple of the grass as a breeze passed through. His body moved on instinct, guided by something beyond his understanding.

The stone came down with precision, striking the creature at the base of its skull. The herbivore collapsed instantly, its body hitting the ground with a dull thud.

He stared at the fallen creature, his breathing steady, his heart calm. There was no exhilaration, no rush of adrenaline—just a quiet certainty that he had done what needed to be done

The jungle was silent again, the other herbivores having fled. Only the predator remained, still tearing into its kill on the far side of the clearing. It paid him no attention, too consumed by its meal to notice him.

He knelt beside his own kill, his hands moving with practiced efficiency as he inspected the creature. He had no memory of ever hunting before, yet his actions felt natural, almost automatic.

As he worked, his mind raced with questions. How had he moved so quickly? How had he struck with such precision? And how had he remained so calm, even in the face of danger?

He shook his head, trying to dismiss the thoughts. Survival came first. He could wrestle with the questions later.

The scent of blood filled the air as he tore into the meat with his bare hands. It was raw and tough, the taste foreign but strangely satisfying. Each bite seemed to renew his strength, his body absorbing the sustenance with an eagerness he couldn't explain.

But as he ate, a new sensation crept over him.

His senses sharpened even further, the world around him becoming more vivid. He could hear the faint rustling of leaves in the distance, see the minute details in the bark of a nearby tree, feel the subtle vibrations of the ground beneath him.

And then he realized something else.

The predator was watching him.

He looked up slowly, his eyes meeting the piercing gaze of the dinosaur across the clearing. Its meal was forgotten, its blood-stained jaws slightly parted as it studied him.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then, without warning, the predator snarled and charged.

His body reacted before his mind could process what was happening. He stood, his feet finding perfect balance as he braced for impact. The predator lunged, its powerful jaws snapping shut just inches from his face.

He moved with impossible speed, sidestepping the attack and bringing the stone down on the creature's flank. The predator roared in pain, spinning around to face him again.

Instinct took over.

He leapt forward, his movements fluid and precise, his strength far surpassing what he thought possible. His hands gripped the predator's neck, his muscles straining as he wrestled it to the ground.

The predator thrashed and snapped, its claws raking against his skin. But he barely felt the pain, his focus unshaken. With a final, powerful twist, he forced the creature's head to the ground, holding it there until it stopped struggling.

He released his grip, his chest heaving as he stepped back. The predator lay still, its body limp.

He stared at his hands, the realization sinking in.

This wasn't normal.

He wasn't normal.