It was supposed to be a simple mission. He’d done it many times before. Ivory hunts were easy. The beasts of burden had no brains and massive tempers. You could use it against them. Usually though, you just needed a narc-rifle and silent footsteps. The cutter’s would come and remove the horn afterward. 

That was the plan. Everyone knew it. Leon’s family made millions— a whole empire, off that alone. Before the leopards and buffalo and lions.

But sometimes things don’t go according to plan. Sometimes, karma comes with a vengeance. 

Karma. 

Leon had been fascinated by the concept ever since he drunkenly committed a hit and run in the city streets of California as a teen. 

Karma. 

He gave it human presence in his mind. It followed him like a ghost. It took the form of whatever misdeed was coming for him. 

So, today, it took the form of a pack of African wild-dogs. 

Today, his karma had fangs and a beautiful tri-color coat that was damn near invisible in the Savannah. Today, his karma had fluffy white tails that signaled to the others that dinner was about to be served. 

He was dinner. 

His chickens had come to roost. 

He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. If he ran from the circling hounds, the anti-poaching unit comprised of special forces agents from Europe and west-african locals would beat the snot out of him before sending him back to prison. They were no more than a mile away, busting up the rest of his team. 

He thought he escaped. Only now, he knew there was no such thing. 

No escape. 

Karma. Retribution. Revenge. Justice. The laws of nature weren’t directly in line with such concepts. But right now, it didn’t feel that way.

Leon roared and kicked the sand, startling the yipping hounds. 

They weren’t lions. Or leopards that could carry six of him up a tree. But the little dogs were the most skilled hunters on earth. 

They had strategy and sense and god damn was it horrifying to see yourself fall into their traps on the other side. 

A smaller dog lunged, snapping at his ankles. 

“You little shit—“ He tried to stomp its head in. Adrenaline gave him new speed in the dark wilderness. 

The wild-dog spun out of the way— cackling. 

From behind, another— much larger dog, bit his calf. 

His muscle crunched between jaws that were stronger than most dogs. 

“AHHHCK!” Leon yelled and jumped. 

The dog hung on. 

Karma wouldn’t release him. It was coming. It was his own. It could go nowhere else. 

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He swung around with his rifle raised and hit the hound with the butt-stock. 

The creature yelped. His inner child cringed at the heartbreaking sound. His manhood grown in less than favorable places reveled in the violence— found security in knowing he could hurt his enemy. Hurt went a long way. 

As the hound stumbled away with a head shake, he was immediately overtaken by six more— all looking the same and making it impossible for Leon to continue his assault. 

In the dark they were like a canid hydra. Endless heads and glowing eyes and—

Another came from behind and ripped open his other calf. 

“They’re wearing me down. An endless game of watch your flank. Only I can’t because there’s forty fucking dogs. I’m dead….. I’m dead.” Leon thought. 

No. Thought wasn’t the right word. He wasn’t thinking. Just trying to survive. Mindlessly reacting to every attack— just as they wished. 

So, when they all gathered together and barked in savage unison, he ran. 

Like a water buffalo. 

Like the sheep in a nearby village. 

Man often forgot their position in nature— before the guns and the armor and the cars. 

Leon was quickly reminded as they ran him down. 

His mouth was dry. His legs were a torn mess of mangled muscle and cracked bone. His back was covered in scratch marks. 

He saw the light of the anti-poaching unit in the distance. Operatives dragged his family and business associates into squad cars. His father among them. The boogeyman of his childhood. 

Archinald Hunt. 

Karma was everywhere. 

Karma was here. 

A wild-dog sped up past the others and leapt through the air, landing on Leon’s back and bit him in the back of his neck. Its fangs knicked his spine and killed his motor control. 

He roared as he fell. 

Almost immediately, he was overtaken by the swarm of feral dogs. Natures clean up crew. Natures angelic force. Cleaning up the muck of human greed that infected their land and native people. 

They ripped him to shreds. Without mercy. Without hesitation. His wails became gurgling cries. 

They were less than three hundred feet away. He could see the anti-poaching unit aim their rifles into the dark, discussing what was out there. He was out there. Dying. 

And the most bizarre part was, he hoped they didn’t find him. 

It would ruin it. 

He’d continue living knowing his Karma was coming. 

That wasn’t life. 

It was only then, in the midst of being mauled entirely, that he realized he wasn’t living. He was running. He was never the hunter. Not really. 

Maybe in his next life, things could be different. 

Hell, if karma was real, maybe reincarnation was t—

A wild-dog tore out his throat and crushed his spine, cutting off his delirious ramblings on the spot. 

It was over. 

Leon Hunt— dark-prince of the Hunt Poaching Association, was dead. 

Then he heard the barks. 

And sniffles. 

And a world of unique smells and sounds twisted his perception to an almost overstimulating degree. 

He opened his eyes— realizing in those moments that he could. 

Darkness was all he knew. 

Until hard points gripped him by the back of the neck. 

The wild-dogs were still killing him. 

“NO! GET OFF!” Leon snapped. 

But all he heard was high pitched barking sounds. 

And instead of his throat being crushed— he was lifted off his feet. The feeling of his skin being pulled with gravity made him go limp. It didn’t hurt. It was…. comfortable. 

They moved. Whoever they were, through stone and sand. He could smell it.

Light shined at the end of a tunnel. They moved toward it, venturing out into Savanah sunlight. 

Or something else entirely. 

There was a sun— but other nearby planets shined in the sky. Not ones he recognized. And the desert was surrounded by mountains and giant sand dunes. 

That all fell to the way side as Leon was dropped. Canine creatures surrounded him in sniffles and forceful forehead licks. 

“What the hell— hey! Back off!” 

More high-pitched barks until one of the dogs smacked him with a paw. 

He growled and smacked back. 

With a paw. 

He looked down at his feet. 

He had paws. 

It felt stupid to think. But what else could it have been? He died to a pack of dogs and reincarnated on a new world as a desert-dog. Better yet, he was a puppy. 

Leon felt his heart drop as the desert-dog alphas brought out more pups. 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me….”