After I devour my prey, I try to sleep, but the suggestion of danger stirs my instincts. I move curiously but cautiously toward the ruckus. Shortly thereafter, I find the small encampment of four big canvas tents circling a fire pit. A few of the men are roasting a gazelle, smaller than mine. Beside the tent nearest to me, a man shouts at a woman.

The man is a big, bigger than the others. His hair is short, straight, spindly, and dark, like the moonless night. High protruding cheekbones and thin lips that stretch over uneven, straw-colored teeth describe his face.

The woman is little next to him. Her head reaches just below his shoulders when she stands erect. She has long lashes around brown eyes like mine. Her mane waves and her hairless skin envelops her body.

The man strikes her temple with his closed fist; I am enraged. The other men pay no attention. They don't seem to care. He shakes her and pushes her down. I can't help the growl that escapes from my mouth.

He looks up, grabs his gun, and, loud in a strange tongue, he runs toward me. I escape, of course, for he is, like all humans, stupid, slow, and clumsy. I look over my shoulder in time to see him trip over the log I had hidden behind.

My eyes open to a new night. I am hungry. I do not prowl long though, before I dine on a monkey who, in frantic retreat, did not make it back up the tree. A few hours and another monkey later, the sounds of man again disturb my ears.

Once more I approach the clearing. This time, however, I keep my distance; curiosity will not kill this cat. The same man is beside the same tent and he is clutching the same woman's neck. Her eyes convey her fear and pain as he slaps her repeatedly. Tonight, I am amazed rather than angered as the other men simply look the other way. One man motions halfheartedly for the savage to stop before he swaggers across the clearing and joins his comrades by the fire. I leap into the night; I am still hungry.

My day long slumber passes, and again night is upon me. I am rested but not satisfied. I harvested no more game after the second monkey last night and was forced to sleep unfulfilled. I will do better tonight.

I lose a monkey. I faintly smell something. It is indiscernible. Now, it is gone. I am growing anxious and getting weary. My legs feel heavy, and my head starts to hang. My muscles exhort me to lie down while my stomach tells me to press on. I must eat. I hear the call of mankind. I tell myself I will not go; I have seen enough of humans. In thirty minutes I am there.

The same scene, once more, unfolds before me. A thin spiral of smoke dances up from the embers shining in the fire pit. The man steps out of one of the tents into the clearing. He is alone. He yells in the direction of a another tent. The woman emerges and answers softly. He shouts. She reacts in a louder voice than I had heard before. He grabs a tool from his waist and beats her to the ground. My hunger is eclipsed only by my disgust. The man steps away from the woman who is still coughing and lying wounded in the dirt.

I stalk soundlessly. My paw swipes. I pilfer his breath. The meat of this harsh man is tender and sweet. I am satisfied now, and, as I bask, I almost wonder whether I or my enemy is the more brutal beast.