The shoreline.
The decision was between the panther and the hunger by the water. He ran, away, through the rain-forest; the shoreline was not far. A scent came first; the sight of sand, later. A small happiness in the forefelt achievement.
There he came. It was not the shoreline. There, the remains of a woman, dead long back.
The wind making the trees creak and the leaves whistle around.
It was going to be the panther.
****
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