Zambezi Valley

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casts a shadow in the pale moonlight.
Eyes like those of an eagle penetrate the darkest shadows of the bush. The soft
gray pads of his paws tread along the game path barely leaving any evidence of
his presence. The great beast strides graciously along before disappearing into
black night. He will soon find either a dense thicket or some tall Buffalo
grass swaying back and forth on the rhythm of the early morning breeze where he
can lay his giant body down and get some rest. Stars begin to fade as a
mysterious yellow glow takes their place in the East. The bush is coming to
life. Birds are singing their songs of joy and hippos are snorting out of pure
pleasure for a new day has come. This will be a day where the fight for survival
takes over like an uncontrollable urge, nevertheless, little is known as to who
should be feared. Should it be the predators lurking around, wanting to fill
their own stomachs, or will it be the natives searching for food in the land on
which they have ...

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