The Circle of Life

The forest is an endless sea, of trees a thousand feet high. A million tangled branches, a billion rustling leaves. Above the canopy the mountains rise, beneath it lies eternal night. Moonlight breaks over the horizon, as the bats rise into the sky. On a mountain’s peak over the valley below, a centaur keeps a watchful eye. The stars are wheeling high above, a dance of swirling light. The brilliant lights shine out in space, an intricate design.

Shifting smoke from fires lift ashy fingers to the night. The fires offer warmth and light and keep the darkness at bay. A swift shadowy movement catches the elder’s eye, dark running shapes between the trees. The centaur reaches for his horn, lips pursed to sound the alarm. It's easy for the hungry beasts to pick off an innocent life.

He glances at the constellations, a reflection glimmers in his eyes. He sighs a sad but resolute sigh, and returns his horn to his side. A growling, tearing, bloody mess is made by a campfire bright. The stars made it clear, the harmless creature’s end was here. And the centaur would always obey. A stifled gurgling scream died down, echoing off the mountains high. And a stillness returned to the night. A single tear for the innocent life, and the stars keep the balances right.

End