A pair of lionesses made their way to the edge of the tree line, and through the leaves, spotted a group of gazelle, grazing. Staying low to the ground, the uninvited guests crept up menacingly, the taste of their next meal forming in their mouths.

A dry, coarse wind from the North, though slight, carried with it sand and the scent of danger. Alerted by the winds, the herd of gazelle scampered for their lives in every direction. The two cats tore forward with devastating force, churning a plume of dry dirt as they accelerated towards the dispersing herd. Their cold merciless eyes scanned for frailties in the group and locked on to a young pregnant gazelle. A silent understanding existed between the lionesses—one actively closed in on their target while the other circled the hunting ground to cut off any corridors of escape. It did not take long before the weighty gazelle found herself sequestered from the group.

The two lionesses took turns to have a go at the prize. Once one had expended all its energy in active pursuit, the other on the periphery charged in to renew the chase. The pregnant gazelle was able to out manoeuvre and outpace whichever lioness was after her, and stopped proudly in her tracks whenever she had put a safe distance between herself and her pursuer. But before she could fully recover her breath, the recuperated huntress on the wings stepped up its pace and bore down on her. And she was forced to resume her run, skipping away like a flat stone on a placid lake.

After an hour of cat and mouse, fatigue started to set in. As the expectant mother stood staring from a distance, she felt the strength in her legs leave. She buckled at the knees and sank to the ground. She tried to stand but again melted to the earth.

The exultant pair, recognising that their ruse had worked, calmly padded up to their bounty. The fallen gazelle looked around with desperate eyes, and spotted the herd in the distance, watching her.  She caught a glimpse of her offspring from an earlier birth, and was overcome by a great sadness. In an attempt to return to her fawn, she made a last gasped effort to move, but was not able to lift herself off the ground. The diminished mother, now resigned to her impending fate, rested her chin on her two outstretched hooves, and prepared to die.

The herd watched as one lioness locked onto the throat of the pregnant mother, while the other ravenously tore at the flinching child in her belly. It was a cruel reality to behold, but one they had witnessed many times before. Such was the law of nature, which ensured the strong prevail and the weak perish.

The herd were grimly aware of this fact: that the young mother had the footspeed and agility to out manoeuvre the two lionesses all day, and that she would still be alive... had she not run out of fuel.

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