The tiger cub ate the bird that had suddenly died.
The tiger didn't know why the little bird had suddenly died; all it knew was that it was a little treat that had fallen from the sky. It wasn't interested in the bird's past or future; it only wanted to devour its flesh.
It used its immature teeth and claws to tear open the bird's wings and breast, plucking off all the feathers and leaving behind the juicy flesh.
It licked it carefully, using the barbs on its tongue to clean every last bit of meat from the bird bone. Its mother watched this fledgling hunt, silently allowing it to finish its treat, then impatiently flicked her tail to urge it on.
It happily left the bird's bones and feathers under the tree and followed its mother's steps with joy.
The bird's bones silently watched it fly away.
A part of the bird entered the tiger's body. It took root and sprouted in this new body, as if it had always grown within it. But at the same time, it also discovered a vague consciousness within this body—a consciousness it deliberately avoided.
They coexist in this tiny body.
The little tiger would occasionally try to communicate with the consciousness within its body, but it was still too small and could only make unintelligible "roaring" sounds. The stone's consciousness couldn't understand what the little tiger was saying, but it imitated the little tiger's sounds, "roaring" back, word by word.
The little tiger happily grabbed its wagging tail.
It followed its mother around the territory for a long time, and then returned here.
They hadn't eaten for days. Its mother, the tigress whose bones supported her skin, walked silently and gracefully before it.
The mother carefully sniffed the tree to make sure there were no other hostile creatures nearby.
It said, "This is the taste of humans."
Flames left black scars on the tree. Occasionally, flashes of lightning would strike the tree, leaving similar scars. But the scars on this tree were lighter and shallower than those left by lightning.
It is a scar left by humanity.
They once observed humans from afar.
Humans held up bright torches in the dead of night, like stars on earth.
They had seen signs of human hunting.
An antelope was surrounded and hunted by a group of strong humans, and lay dead in a pool of blood. The mother tiger, with her cubs on top, lay watching from a distance in the withered grass as the humans dragged the antelope away and devoured it around a fire.
The little tiger's consciousness asked, "What is a human being?"
The stone's consciousness sank into the earth, returning to its original form—the stone that made it who it was. It saw humans dancing and singing in a circle, and it saw them cut off the head of an antelope with stone tools and present it to it along with bright flowers.
But a stone is just a stone.
Even though it was once a tree and a bird, it is still a little tiger now.
But it has never been a human, so it doesn't know what a human is.
Stone said, "I don't know."
The little tiger licked its soft, damp nose and said, "You don't know everything either."
The stone admitted, "I'm not human, so I don't know." It asked the little tiger, "If you want to know what a human is, do you want to become one?"
The little tiger sneezed loudly.
The little tiger asked, "Do humans have mothers?" It proudly, with a touch of smugness, moved closer to its mother. It had been following its mother ever since it opened its eyes.
Its mother nursed it, taught it to run and hunt, and took it on long, long journeys.
This is the best mother.
The stone said, "Humans also have mothers."
It saw many plump, strong women.
They searched for grains that could be grown on this land and planted them in the soil.
They searched for edible creatures on this land and offered the most precious parts to the stones.
They lived and thrived on this land, raising their children and multiplying.
Confused, the tiger cub followed its tired mother back to their den. They still hadn't found suitable food that day, but the bird it had eaten had given it some energy, so it wasn't very hungry yet.
It curled up and fell asleep under its mother's fur.
When it woke up, the mother tiger had already left the den. Its mother needed to leave the cub, who was still learning hunting skills, in the den to give it a better chance of catching suitable prey.
The tiger cub knew this too. It rolled around idly in its den, honing its hunting skills with its tail.
The stone tempted it: "Why don't you go out and take a look?"
The little tiger pretended not to understand what the stone was saying and continued to roll around in its den.
This is a small, sheltered den made of grass and stones that the mother tiger found. As the only surviving cub from her litter, it was just the right size to live in this tiny den.
It had become accustomed to the stone that spoke inside its head and would very naturally ignore the stone's voice.
Stone nudged the tiger a few more times, but seeing that the little tiger didn't react, it fell silent.
Until the tiger cub heard footsteps that didn't belong to its mother.
—The voice of humanity.
They said, "There are footprints here."
They happily brushed aside the fallen leaves and excitedly shared their discovery with their companions.
The tiger cub quietly crouched down, hiding itself among the grass and stones. Its eyes were wide open, fixed on the only path leading to its den.
It didn't make a sound.
Neither the threatening growls nor the sound of feet hitting the grass could be heard outside the little nest.
Someone said, "Something's not right here." It was a steady, powerful female voice.
But those who had previously claimed there were footprints here countered: "We need food."
The woman rejected his rebuttal.
She left with her companions and supporters, but the men hesitated to stay. They stood outside the hut, shoving and pushing until they chose the thinnest man and shoved him toward the entrance of the hut.
They watched as the man walked toward the grass hut.
The man hesitated, turning back every few steps as he walked into the grassy hut.
He joked with his companion, "This is probably a not-so-bright rabbit's burrow." He tried to reassure himself, "It could also be a dove's burrow..."
The little tiger quietly lowered its body even further.
The man's hairy head peeked into the simple grass nest. He didn't see the little tiger at first, so he reached out and ruffled the messy grass.
The little tiger, hidden in the shadows, leaped up.
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