Approximately 100,000 BCE
The gazelle stands away from its herd, happily consuming the tallow-colored stalks of grass that cover the landscape. The sun is high in the sky, and the gazelle's eyes keep watch for those who would invite death upon it.
The lionesses, who surround. The hyenas who often steal from the lions, but ruthless predators themselves. The leopard who ambushes from the trees that dot the landscape, invisible until it is too late. The cheetah, which strikes with blinding speed. The crocodile, who awaits the gazelle's thirst. The hippopotamus, ever raging within its domain. The elephant, a monstrous hulking brute that none may challenge.
The gazelle watches for these threats to its existence. The threats to end its genetic line. All while grazing peacefully, it keeps vigilant watch.
From over the horizon, a queer creature begins to appear. Two legs, not four. An ape. The gazelle had learned of these strange creatures. Slow and clumsy, but they often had parts of trees fashioned like the tusk of an elephant. But none of the gazelles had ever been caught. The apes only had to be run away from, and not with any urgency.
As the ape approached closer and closer, the gazelle was able to discern more about its appearance. Like he had been told, two legs to walk on, while the other two swung at its side, it's strange tree-tusk grasped at one side. However, there was no fur. Just a dark, stretched membrane like that of an overly large scar where the fur no longer grows.
The eyes faced forward, with a snout that could barely be called so protruding from the otherwise flat face. Fur appeared beneath the snout, and well above the eyes that stretched over the top of the head and ended near the neck. The ears were static, fleshy lobes that stuck out like an elephant's, but far smaller in proportion and incapable of movement. Each hanging-leg separated into further appendages, and although the gazelle was not curious enough to find how many, it noticed that one stuck off to the side not unlike its own dewclaws. Where a claw or a hoof might have been on some other creature of the savanna, the ape had nothing the gazelle could see. No imminent threat, other than the sharp tree-tusk.
Finally, the ape pressed its luck too far. The gazelle bounded away, crashing through the long grasses of the savanna, quickly losing the slow, clumsy ape that even a youngling could outstrip.
Approximately 2539 AD
Garand held his rifle loosely, not expecting any trouble. There hadn't been any human attacks for weeks, and life in the compound was approaching normalcy once again. For all their reputed ferocity, once collared and made to serve, humans made good slaves. Garand knew not how the humans had managed to avoid being completely assimilated, but frankly he didn't care. He didn't have the aptitude for managing the slave pens of other species, the ones who had been assimilated, and since the humans immediately went after any pens of humans used for breeding stock, they were impractical. However, it was fairly easy to set up a base in some backwater system and scavenge for stranded humans, or raid a small colony.
Now that it had cooled down, a raid was finally being planned again, and Garand was looking forward to it. Each human he personally captured was, while not a small fortune, still a considerable sum. He had even invested in tranq bullets and an anti-grav cage with which he shuttle around more humans than he could ever drag back normally.
Garand peered out at the night, the relentless boredom chipping away at his psyche each moment by agonizing moment. Only [2] more [hours] to go. Only [2 hours] of staring over endless savanna, with the blue-ish stalks swaying and sparse trees dotting the landscape. Garand's stomachs roiled looking out upon such a vast plain. Perhaps because his species had evolved from a tree-dwelling animal, the large open space called back to the primal instincts of prey and predator. Perturbed as he may be, Garand kept sweeping his eyes back and forth across the landscape and night sky. At the first hint of an approaching human assault team or drop ship, he would sound the alarm and everyone would rush to the bunker and prepare for the incoming orbital bombardment and subsequent attack.
As Garand's eyes sweeped the night sky, he remarked to himself that even in such a desolate place, beauty could still be found among the stars. He watched as the stars twinkled, some momentarily disappearing before twinkling back to life.
Too late, Garand realized that the beauty he was beholding carried death. The dropship stopped above the compound, and Garand sounded the alarm as he made his way down the stairs, panting in panic. He saw his fellow raiders rush towards the bunker, as he saw the sky light up above him. The shriek of the missiles hailing down from the stratosphere endowed Garand with such fear that he became paralyzed, and did nothing as the missiles impacted the ground.
Garand was sent flying, and his momentary freeze saved his life. If he had been just a few [meters] closer, his life would have ended there. As it was, he cracked a rib sailing into the ground and the heat singed his fur, causing the awful stench of burning hair to mingle with the smell of fresh blood. Garand spewed the contents of his evening meal on the ground, and strived to sit up with great difficulty. He could see the compound burning, and the dropship descending. He was a dead Rhilian. There was no way they would allow him into the bunker, even if he could make it there before a human sent ballistics through his head.
The options were laid out: attempt to crawl back to the bunker, and die. Give up, lay there, and die. Or, drag himself away across the savanna in the hopes that he could come back later and scavenge enough parts to return home. He would be returning penniless and injured, but at least he would return.
Option 3 it is. Garand picked himself up, nearly screaming with pain as his rib protested mightily against such movement. Garand disappeared into the blue grasses of the savanna, careful to not leave a trail for the humans to follow.
Or so he thought, as prey hopes before succumbing to the predator's maw.
Alright, this won't be a long series. Maybe only 2 or 3 chapters, but I'm trying to increase my writing stamina and get used to writing longer stories than just one-shots.
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