A small, furred creature drops from the trees- Gains a new and greater perspective- Unclenches fists and flexes knees- Finds upright a fresh directive. A larger world it moves upon- Not bound by a branches’ height- As the need for food compels it on- It grows sharper, keener sight. A wealth of tastes the creature finds- In berries all around- The joy of melon, pulp and rind- Fat insects housed in earthen mounds. Its’ own kind watch from lower boughs- As rain pours from the sky- The explorer, beneath a palm-frond house- Its’ fur still warm and dry. The sun returns in a day or two- Finding seven more creatures on the ground- Enjoying this bounty they’ve come into- Making a cheerful, chittering sound. The Predator happens upon them thus- Engaged in a merry food fight. The only warning, a spray of dust- As the reptile leaps into flight. The Predator was seen by cousins aloft- But no call was given below- For it’s never gained purchase on bark peeling soft- And they’d lost fear of it ages ago. It’s spotted the playful ones on the ground- And its vision grows hot and dark- In their midst the huge visitor veers around- While the eight become frozen, stark. The first creature broken in ravening jaws- Is a tiny female form- Whose mewling stills as deadly claws- Snake out to a brother, still warm. Making two swallows of the female infant- The Predator draws him in- Withdrawing talons leave his body rent- The Predator feeds again. Finding nerve at last the other six- Take flight but its’ meal is brief- The Predator, for his next course picks- Out the mother, stunned with grief. Slowing down a touch to toy with its’ meal- The Predator stalks its’ prey- Inflicting more terror which saps her will- To even think of running away. Too confident, the Predator never sees- The stick thrust through its’ eye- Buried deep with speed, brought to its’ knees- In such shock the Predator dies. The explorer drives her spear again- Through that passage into its’ brain- And a simple stick, meant for a termite den- Is now a weapon with proven stain. Better methods are learned as ages rush by- For handling unwelcome hunters- Uninhibited then, more explorers vie- For this world, so filled with wonders. The tools and weapons evolve apace- As do these clever creatures aground- The soul of Man is borne in this race- As an essence which cannot be bound. As we come to the present finally- We find this essence in every land- What bold little creatures are such as we- That fear NOTHING… with a weapon in hand.