The Taste of Survival

The jungle seemed alive with sound as he crept through the dense undergrowth, each step deliberate and silent. Despite his lack of experience, his movements felt instinctive an unconscious rhythm that guided him closer to the herd. He had seen them earlier, their towering forms grazing by the stream, oblivious to his presence.

The air was thick with the earthy scent of damp soil and vegetation, but his senses picked up something else a warm, musky smell that he knew belonged to the herd. His eyes scanned the area ahead, his heightened vision picking out shapes in the dim light filtering through the canopy.

There they were. A group of large, lumbering herbivores, their thick hides gleaming in the fading sunlight. They were enormous creatures, their heads low as they tore at the grass with blunt, flat teeth.

His stomach growled, a sharp reminder of his purpose. He crouched low, his chiseled frame blending into the foliage. His gaze focused on a smaller one, likely a juvenile, grazing near the edge of the group. It moved with less caution than the others, its attention split between the grass and the occasional flutter of insects.

He exhaled slowly, steadying himself. His body felt light yet powerful, his muscles coiled like springs ready to unleash. Every sound, every movement of the herd, was amplified in his mind.

And then he moved.

It happened in an instant. One moment he was hidden, and the next, he was sprinting toward the juvenile. The herd scattered at the sound of his approach, their massive bodies crashing through the trees like living avalanches.

The juvenile let out a high-pitched bellow as he lunged, wrapping his arms around its neck. It kicked and thrashed, its surprisingly strong limbs battering him, but he held on, his grip unyielding.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the creature's panicked cries.

With a swift motion, he ended its struggle. The jungle fell silent, save for the distant rustle of the fleeing herd. He released the creature's lifeless body, his breath coming in short bursts.

He stared at his hands, stained with blood, and felt a pang of guilt. But it was fleeting. Survival demanded sacrifice, and he had no choice.

The fire crackled softly as he roasted the meat over an improvised spit. The rich, savory aroma filled the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the jungle. He tore off a piece cautiously, the meat hot against his fingers.

The taste was strange, unlike anything he'd ever experienced. It was gamey and rich, with an underlying sweetness that caught him off guard. He chewed slowly, savoring the flavor.

His body welcomed the sustenance, the hunger that had gnawed at him for hours finally abating. He felt a surge of energy, a warmth spreading through his limbs.

As he ate, his thoughts drifted back to the predator he had faced earlier. The way his body had moved, the strength he had displayed it was unlike anything he had ever known.

"What am I?" he murmured, his voice barely louder than the crackling fire.

The jungle answered with its usual symphony of sounds, the rustle of leaves and distant cries of unseen creatures. He leaned back against a tree, his gaze fixed on the canopy above.

The stars were faint, their light barely piercing the thick foliage. He wondered how much of the sky he would recognize if he could see it clearly. Was he even on Earth? The thought lingered, unsettling but impossible to dismiss.

As the fire began to die down, he allowed his eyes to close. Sleep came slowly, his mind racing with questions and memories that refused to surface.