Natural Order

originally posted January 6, 2006

I have been up for a few ahn, seated beside the ash of last evening's fire. The Viktel Aria, originating from the Northern Gate of my city, is a familiar road to me. In a few days, we should reach the edge of the Upper Swamp Forests. As one first girl, the auburn-maned Sandal, stirs from a deep sleep I've chosen to indulge her with, another, sinuous Tasta returns from her hunt. Before Tor-tu-Gor appeared over the horizon, I let the sleen off her leash. Within a handful of ihn, I watched her silouhette launch from the dew-soaked grasses to the throat of a large tabuk. The animal howled in pain as the sleen employed the full benefit of its sleek, swift moving form. Twin rows of sharp fangs sunk into the neck of the tabuk as Tasta's clawed hind paws gathered purchase and ripped her quarry open from chest to abdomen. They say the larl is Gor's greatest hunter, the perfect predator, and I have no doubt this is true. The sleen, however, is quite an adept killer as well. She ate her meal slowly, steam from the fallen animal's open cavity rising against the cool morning air, before she returned to my side, sated. Grisly as the site may have been, there was beauty in it. Nature needn't be pretty to be appreciated. The Natural Order of things has its own aesthetic to marvel over.