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Updated: June 26, 2025
It was Suma, the Jaguar, but she acknowledged no relationship between herself and Warruk, her cub of last year. In him she saw only an intruder in her abode and a possible source of danger to her new little one reposing in the seclusion of the cavity.
They never lingered long in one place and by gradual stages their journeying took them further and further away from the forested foothills and nearer to the great arteries that poured their waters into the system of the mighty Amazon. Food became more abundant as the days passed and Warruk learned the lessons of life with Suma, his mother, and instinct, as instructors.
But with darkness came a brisk wind that lashed the treetops into a madly waving, groaning tangle of spectral branches and brought a cold shudder to the besieged. There was no rain but the air was heavy with moisture from the saturated mould underneath and the chill penetrated to the very bones. Warruk shivered.
After that Warruk was content to leave the larger creatures to his mother; but the smaller ones such as the cavies and opossums he dealt with mercilessly and swiftly; in fact, Suma urged him to such a course and often watched from some nearby point of vantage while he conducted the stalk and launched the attack.
As for Warruk, the vise-like jaws had opened at the first onslaught of the piranhas to snap at its assailants in frantic efforts at defense and retaliation; and thus freed, he rose to the surface and succeeded in swimming to the land with scarcely enough strength remaining to draw himself up.
Warruk glided out upon the sand so silently and stealthily that he was like a shadow flowing over the ground. Straight as an arrow he went, retracing his steps of the previous afternoon and in a few minutes he stood before the entrance of Mata's shelter. None stirred inside but his ears caught the sound of deep breathing. There was no hesitation, no indecision. One quick bound and he had entered.
But life was not so abundant and the animals living under conditions varying little from the normal were more wary. So, after a few days of wandering and exploration Warruk returned to the spot so densely populated by the creatures that had fled before the drought. They were there still; in fact, many newcomers had been added to their number.
But Suma did nothing of the kind; she stood like an inanimate thing as the moments passed, knowing well that the deer's curiosity would cause it to draw nearer; that would be the time for the spring. But Warruk did not know this. He waited as long as he could and then bounded to his mother's side with an inquisitive whine. The spell was broken.
A rarity indeed was Warruk, and because of his color, destined to grow into the largest and most ferocious of his species.
So soon as this prowler on mischief bent, oblivious of his presence, had passed on, he sought the densest cover in the forest island and curled up for a much-needed rest. The first season of drought in the life of Warruk, the black cub, was drawing to a close. He felt the coming change just as surely as had Suma, his mother, one short year before while sunning herself on the rock in the river.
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