The tiger reclines in a wide chair, his feet propped up on the battered table, claws curled lazily. His hands rest atop his bulging belly, every breath a gentle rumble from deep within. The air is thick with the scent of meat and victory, and the tiger’s satisfied smile lingers as he surveys the carnage.
The tiger closes his eyes, savoring memories of pursuit and conquest. He pictures the fat merchant, sweating and trembling beneath the forest canopy, his ornate robes torn and muddied. The merchant’s voice quivered with desperation, offering secrets in exchange for mercy. "You want food, friend? I know where the others hide. Let me go and I'll tell you everything."
The merchant’s words spill forth like coins, betraying his comrades for a fleeting hope of survival. The tiger absorbs every detail, his gaze cold and unwavering. "Speak quickly. Your value is measured by your usefulness, not your courage," he replies, voice deep and steady. The merchant, sensing the futility, reveals the camp’s location, his shame mingling with fear.
The tiger tears into the meal with raw delight, savoring every bite. His satisfaction is evident in the languid stretch of his limbs and the slow, contented licking of his lips. The empty dishes clatter as he pushes them aside, clearing space for his immense paws.
The tiger reflects on the merchant’s betrayal, a trace of amusement flickering in his amber eyes. "Humans are predictable when faced with hunger and fear," he muses, his voice barely above a whisper. He feels a rare gratitude for the information, knowing tomorrow’s hunt will be easier, more bountiful.
With a final, satisfied sigh, the tiger lets his eyelids close. Tomorrow promises new adventures and fresh prey, their fate already sealed by the merchant’s desperate confession. The jungle night presses in, silent and watchful, as the predator rests, king of his domain.
