A cloud of dust hit the wind as the lion brought down his quarry, ending the chase and all hopes for the antelope, yet as he opened his jaws to drive fangs into neck, his victim shrieked a final plea.
“Wait! Just hear me out!” the antelope implored, his eyes wide with fear.
The lion hesitated. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard his dinner blubbering for mercy. Sensing that the antelope may have more to offer than just tears however, he paused. “Speak then,” he insisted in a slightly annoyed tone.
The antelope went on in a quivering voice. “I get that we can’t both win here. You’re just trying not to die of starvation, I’m just trying not to get eaten. We both want to live, right?”
The lion sighed. “Hey, it’s nothing personal. I can’t help what I am, but a lion can only survive on meat.”
“And I didn’t ask to be made of the stuff,” the antelope replied. “But I need to keep it attached to my bones in order to stay alive and get by.”
“Neither one of us signed up for this game, bud,” the lion answered with resignation. “But it’s what we’ve both got to make do with.”
Suddenly, the earth around them shook. “Have either of you considered the way of the elephant?” came a booming voice as its owner casually strode past. “We needn’t kill to eat, but no predator can threaten us, so we needn’t flee either.”
The lion and the antelope both rolled their eyes. “We’re not elephants,” they both dejectedly replied in unison.
The elephant merely tilted its brow in puzzlement at them both, still just as confused by their struggles as before. Giving them both an indifferent shrug, it lumbered off without a care.
“Elephants, they just don’t get it; what us small herbivores have to deal with,” the antelope grumbled.
The lion eased his grip, beginning to sympathize with his prey’s discontentedness. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it,” he said. “Tell you what though, given the understanding of sorts it feels like we’ve come to here, just this once, I’ll let you have one last chance to outrun me, just because I’m feeling generous today.”
The antelope’s expression turned to surprise at this unexpected turn. “Well, I would say thanks, but you do still want to kill me so… later!” he answered, springing forth as the lion’s grip eased.
And just like before, the chase resumed with paws racing after hooves. Eventually though, as the lion closed the distance a second time, it became clear that the antelope’s time was up.
With the lion on top of him once again, the antelope flopped his head against the dirt in bitter resignation. “Damn it. Oh well, get it over with then,” he moaned. “I guess I was never the strongest or the fastest. Someone’s got to lose.”
The lion eased back, though still keeping the exhausted antelope’s back leg pinned beneath his paw. “I’m having a thought here,” he said. “Maybe there’s a way for us to both get what we need. We’re both smart. We’re better than this same old mindless game of run and chase, yes?”
The antelope was apprehensive, but hardly willing to turn down a third chance. “How?” he asked in a skeptical tone. “Are you saying you’ll start eating grass while I get to walk around like I’m invincible? How far do you think that’ll get us both, hmm?”
“I get it,” said the lion. “We can’t change what we are. Maybe, if the universe wills it, we might both be lucky enough to get reincarnated as something else when we die, but if we knew that for sure, we’d probably be a lot quicker to just give up and spin the wheel again, hoping we land on elephant next time.”
“Hey, we can’t all be elephants,” said the antelope with a groan. “Have you seen how much they eat? No way there’s enough grassland for all of us to do that. We’d all starve within one generation.”
The lion scratched his head with his other paw, frustrated. “You know what? This is all ludicrous,” he stated. “Neither of us should even be asking these questions. We shouldn’t even know any better. We’re animals. We’re supposed to be ignorant; just following our instincts, not asking these big questions that get us nowhere.”
“You’re right,” said the Antelope, beginning to share his annoyance. “Why do either of us even have conscious thought in the first place? It all seems silly.”
“I don’t know,” said the Lion. “But I feel like this is the Humans’ fault somehow. It’s not as if they’ve ever known how to mid their own business, never mind that smug elephant back there.”
The Antelope began to think, questioning what they’d both said about being stuck in the roles that nature had given them. “Hey, I just had an idea,” he began. “Humans get to do whatever they like, change the rules of the game, ask these kinds of questions, yes? Maybe we should go and have a chat with them?”
“Chat with the Humans?” said the Lion, making it clear how preposterous this seemed. “You’re joking, right? They’ll probably shoot me on sight and make me into a rug, and there’s no reason they won’t do the same to you and hang your head on their wall.”
“So, that’s it then?” the Antelope grumpily answered. “Nothing to be done? We’re stuck with this sad predicament?”
The lion was quiet for a moment. “Well… maybe it doesn’t have to be all bad,” he eventually replied. “Maybe we can help each other.”
“How?” the Antelope said in disbelief, ever the cynic.
“Here’s an idea,” the lion went on. “You’re a herd animal. Surely there’ve got to be a few other antelope in your herd that you… don’t exactly get along with. Someone you wouldn’t miss.”
“I’m listening,” the antelope replied, suddenly intrigued.
“Well, what if you helped me catch them? That way, you get to live another day and get rid of a pest, and I don’t have to starve.”
The Antelope put his hoof to his head, giving his horn a scratch. “Hmm. Now that you mention it, the last time we had our mating season, there was this one guy in the heard who always beat me in fights. He was the one who got all of the females’ attention. Sure, maybe he has better genes than me, and that’s why he’s a stud and I’m a steak, but neither one of us did anything to earn our fates. If he’d been eaten by a lion, things would have worked out better for me.” The Antelope paused, frowning as he gave it more thought. “You know what, he had a good run last year. He’s had plenty of luck for one lifetime, but I think it’s time for him to stop getting in everyone else’s way.”
“Good,” said the Lion, rubbing his paws together. “So, any ideas on how we snag him?”
The Antelope smiled. “Leave that to me,” he said in a sinister tone.
* * *
The other antelopes’ heads all shot up in shocked surprise as there compatriot returned to the herd. “You’re alive?” one of them said in disbelief. “We saw that lion come down on you. How did you escape?”
“I fought him off,” the Antelope replied with bluster.
One of the others, the very rival whom he was at odds with, sneered. “Please. You couldn’t fight off a lion. I tangled with you last year and you were barely a challenge. I could have beaten you with just one horn, you weakling.”
The antelope grinned. This had been just what he was hoping for. “Oh yeah? Rematch, right now.”
His opponent smirked, squaring up to him without hesitation. The rest of the heard soon backed away from them, eagerly jostling together to watch.
As they locked horns, the antelope’s resolve quickly wavered. He knew he was outgunned, and now he was beginning to question if he still had the stamina to bring his plan to fruition.
Breaking away from his opponent, he took several steps back.
“That all you got?” the other antelope smugly questioned.
“Come and find out,” he answered, pawing the dust with his hoof in a goading gesture.
His opponent lunged at him again, but this time he turned to the right, forcing the other antelope to change direction. As they locked horns for a second time, he knew it was now or never. He was smaller, weaker, and still exhausted and shaken from his near-death-experience earlier.
With every ounce of his strength, he twisted his way around to the right ever further, forcing his opponent to face away from the bushes they’d been edging ever closer too all this time. All he had to do was keep him held.
A mass of claws and teeth erupted from the bushes, seizing his opponent from behind. Breaking away from him, the antelope sprung back, looking over toward the herd only to see a cloud of dust as their instinctual responses all kicked in at once. Daring not to look back as his rival who he could hear screaming bloody murder, he bolted after the others.
Eventually, he caught back up with the herd. Coming to a stop and panting heavily, he felt an odd mix of exhaustion and exhilaration, yet also a touch of guilt. His plan had worked, and his rival had met the same fate that he’d miraculously escaped less than an hour before. Reflecting on how it had all turned out, he almost felt proud. With the lion’s help, it felt as if they’d somehow broken the very game that they’d both maligned the perpetuity of.
The rest of the heard were already giving him mixed looks of awe, curiosity, and apprehension. They’d seen him escape death twice now while backing up the bravado he’d shown.
“How did you do it?” one of them asked, wide-eyed.
The antelope gave a shrug. “I guess I’m tougher than I look,” he said, trying not to sound too cocky about it.
* * *
A few hours later, after slipping away from the herd, the antelope made his way back towards the same spot as before. Hearing a disturbing sound that was like the laugh of the insane, he spied a pack of hyenas off in the dust, fighting over what he knew were the lion’s leftovers. A chill ran down his spine and he kept a watchful eye on the grizzly scene, almost feeling sick in the knowledge that those could have been his remains being torn apart, picked clean, and dragged through the dirt.
Nearby, the lion was lying on his back under the shade of a tree.
The antelope moved closer, knowing the lion would not be a threat with a full belly. He still wasn’t sure why he’d felt emboldened enough to return here, but it seemed that maintaining the tenuous understanding he had with the lion was worth some degree of continued effort.
Spotting him, the lion rolled over. “I was wondering if I’d see you again,” he said. “Figured we’d be back to business as usual after our little agreement.” Giving a yawn, he looked off into the distance, resting his chin on one paw. “Would you look at those scavengers over there,” he sighed toward the hyenas. “Every time I finish a meal, I have these crackheads following me. Honestly, sometimes they’re like a bad smell I just can’t get rid of, literally.”
The antelope’s guilt seemed to elevate at this reminder. As much as he’d detested his rival, the fate that he’d left him to was undoubtedly horrible, yet he knew he’d still do it again rather than having his own bones munched on.
“I don’t like them either, but it doesn’t look like they’re going anywhere soon,” the antelope added in a resigned tone. “They might seem foul and lowly to you, but it seems like they’ve got an easier time of it than either one of us; just scrounging what’s left.”
The lion scoffed. “I’ve seen how they treat each other. We don’t want any of that,” he said. “But hey, things might start looking up for you in the herd now that your competition’s gone. Come to think of it, you did make my job pretty damn easy.” Continuing to stroke his chin, his thinking face persisted. “Maybe you could keep on helping me like this? My life becomes easier, yours becomes safer. We’ve cheated the system once, why does it have to stop there?”
The antelope felt uneasy at this. “Wait, I didn’t have a problem with letting you get rid of my rival, but I don’t think I’d feel so good about selling out the others in my herd.”
“What? The same herd who left you for dead as soon as they saw you go down before?” the lion replied. “I’ve seen it a million times. You herbivores only care about your own skins. Well, except for buffaloes, that is. Still, if you want to go back to running away from me in future, that’s your call.”
The antelope was conflicted. Betraying his own kind felt wrong, yet they’d been glad to see him take the fall earlier if it meant one more day of safety for them. His life had meant even less to the herd than it had to the lion, who, he had to admit, had seen more value in him than just a piece of meat. The lion’s offer now meant that he saw him as an asset. “Fine,” the antelope said in a stiff voice. “You’ve got a deal.”
* * *
As the weeks passed, the antelope and the lion would continue to secretly meet to plan hunts, often targeting members of the herd who were either a liability or a nuisance, at least by the antelope’s judgement.
Over time, as the pair continued to work together, their ability to problem-solve began to expand. Before long, this extended to observing the movements of other species, surveying new feeding grounds, anticipating changes in the environment, and even predicting the weather.
Eventually, the antelope was able to convince the lion, who by now was the leader of his own pride, to only target other species in hunts while leaving the antelope alone. The antelope heard meanwhile would act as scouts, gaining not just protection but also new tracts of fertile grassland to graze from the animals the lions hunted.
As months turned into years, and years into decades, the legacy of the alliance forged between lion and antelope endured through their progeny. The two species who had once been foes had now mastered the ability to coordinate resources. This soon extended into coopting other species whose abilities were of help.
As time progressed, the growing alliance of animals eventually learned to craft tools, build structures, and find ways to manipulate their environment, but as their society progressed, so too did their ambitions. One day, the animals would eventually topple those whose crown they’d grown to covet. The humans.
10,000,000 years later…
The city street bustled with noise, movement, and activity as a young couple walked into an especially classy restaurant together. The man, whose head sported a pair of horns made sure to pull out his date’s chair before taking a seat opposite her. She lacked his horns, having instead whiskers, a pair of sharp canine teeth, and gleaming yellow eyes.
“So, what will we be having this evening?” asked their waiter, a man with enormous ears and a great trunk of a nose.
The man closed his menu. “Just green salad for me tonight, please,” he answered.
“Certainly Sir. And for you, madam?”
The woman looked up with a smile. “I’ll be having steak, please.”
Her date’s expression suddenly turned to one of discomfort. “Honey, I thought we talked about this,” he said in a troubled tone. “When we got together, I told you how uncomfortable I was about you eating meat. We both agreed you’d try to make vegan work.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “It’s been a month now. Can’t you let me celebrate a bit here? It’s a special occasion after all.”
“Should I give you both a bit more time to decide?” the waiter asked in a calm and diffusive tone.
“I want our one-month anniversary to be special, dear,” the man went on. “We both want to relax and enjoy ourselves, but I can do that with you if I’ve just watched you eat flesh. It’s too unsettling for me.”
“Babe, can’t you just let me off the hook for one night?” the woman protested. “I’m starving here, and I’ve been itching to sink my teeth is to something juicy for weeks now. I need something that doesn’t taste like cardboard for a change.”
The man dipped his head. “I thought you were serious about this,” he said.
“Perhaps madam would prefer a pescatarian option?” the waiter asked.
“No,” the woman said sharply, holding a stiff and dejected glare as she shut her menu. “Forget the steak. I’ve got something else in mind.”
The man’s eyebrows rose fearfully. “What do you mean by that… dear?”
“I mean you,” she growled. “You’d better start running, antelope boy. You’re what’s on the menu tonight.”
And in the space of a heartbeat, the restaurant was in chaos as tables were overturned and a viscous chase ensued. Civility was replaced by bestial aggression as the lioness bounded after her partner-turned-dinner. After ten-million years of coexistent evolution, the age-old game of predator and prey was once again back on.
Benjamin Kirkby 