A Token of Remembrance

Gina walked through the look-a-like forest like a queen.

I am a queen, she thought; a fading one. My line is ending and there is nothing I can do about it. Sure they have created ‘laws’ against killing my kin – as though they take them seriously. Their laws are nothing like the laws of nature: binding, honest, trustworthy.

With heavy steps, she walked in the grass. She pretended not to see those ugly iron fences that surrounded the natural reserve. She liked to call it the forest for it gave her a glimmer of hope.

“Mama! Look at the tiger! It’s beautiful.”

I was beautiful, child. I wish you could have seen me in all my glory, when I roamed wild and free. My hide shone beneath the sun like a thousand coloured diamonds. They were beautiful days; if only you knew.

“It’s shame they don’t let us hunt’em no more. That fur’d be worth a fortune!”

Gina heard one of the observers.

Poacher. She grunted angrily to herself.

They come in all shapes and sizes. Even the women on the far right think my fur is worth more than my life – for a petty coat!

We are not evil; we were created as wild ones. But humans don’t understand that; anything that can eat them is evil and beastly. Typical. They haven’t seen themselves.

Greedy poachers!

Gina stood before the gathering audience, some watching briefly and some about to leave.

Here is something to remember me by.

She stood, her fur glittering black and orange beneath the sun.

One final stand.

And she roared with all her might, echoing on every air-wave, little breeze and howling tornado.

Taken from: http://dreamatico.com/data_images/tiger/tiger-8.jpg