Cold. Hungry. Bored. Hand reaching high, Galal stood at the bottom of the wall of stone. As the hand fell to his side he crouched, muscles tightening under the skin and fur. His body sailed up the wall as the energy was released, fully extended from hands to feet as Galal reached for the top. By all standards an impressive feat, yet still, one of failure.

He fell, hand against the wall, a red smear marking what he had accomplished. Looking up, he snarled, a heat flaring up within. He hadn’t made it even halfway. Galal looked at his bloodied hand. There was nothing to wrap it in in this prison. He could only close the hand into a fist as he walked away from the wall, back to the center. The man of fur and flowers was approaching again.

The man would repeat his daily oddity, bellowing unknowns to his singular audience for a reason Galal couldn’t comprehend. He stood atop the wall of stone, marked leaves in hand, and spoke, voice carrying across the open prison with an echo.

“Tree!” Galal’s neck twitched upward slightly as focused on the word. The man’s sight must have been impressive, as he seemed to catch on and spoke again. “Where tree?”

Galal’s head tilted to the side. There are no trees here, he thought. Then he said as much. “There are no trees here,” he called out, the sound of his voice booming throughout the open area. The man flipped through his leaves, turning them over, going back and forth in search of something. Finally, he called out again, the sound barely recognizable.

“Deer,” Galal called out. The man repeated the words quietly, nodding.

“Large deer in the north,” the man said. Galal again tilted his head. So what, he thought. What did deer matter to him now? The man yelled out again. “Teach talk,” he said, pointing to himself.

“Bring deer, then talk,” he replied. The man again looked through his marked leaves, finally nodding to himself when he had found what he was looking for. His quick search continued for another moment, then he looked up.

“Good.” Galal did not respond, and the man questioned him no further. Instead, the man waited, the air slowly filling with the scent of another beast. The men with sticks came soon after, releasing the bolts on the door and swinging it open, revealing several creatures barely half the size of the one he had killed yesterday.

The furless creatures spotted Galal almost immediately, bolting from their little enclosure. They approached recklessly, heading straight toward him. In response, Galal ran to the side, causing them to slow and turn their bodies as he circled them, the distance closing between them with each step. The creatures turned simple mindedly, continuing to turn and face him directly, their position unchanged even as Galal approached.

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As he closed in on them he stepped too close, the smaller of the creatures spitting out a barbed tongue that constricted his leg, the barbs piercing the skin under his fur. Galal grabbed the barbed tongue of the beast and pulled in one quick motion, ripping the tongue from its mouth. It bellowed in pain, blood dripping from its mouth, its compatriots lashing out with their own tongues, only to hit air as Galal retreated.

Tossing the barbed tongue to the side, the numbness began to set in. Pink lashes flied through the air, swiping at the space around Galal as he dodged them and backed away, each one closer than the last as his left leg began to slow. As he tried to dodge another lash, the nerves in his leg gave out completely, the leg unresponsive as the tongue wrapped around it and pulled him in.

The other beast did the same to his arm, their tongues no doubt seeping their poison deeper into his blood. He wrapped his arm around the barbed tongue and did as he had before, ripping the appendage from its source, a spray of blood splattering the ground as he did so. The arm had started the numbing process as well, and Galal could do little than to hurry and grasp the last tongue, pulling with what force he could. The tongue stayed even as he pulled with the full might of his numb arm.

It hit him then. With his free arm, untainted by the poison, he grabbed hold of his own hand, squeezing it to gain a grip on the tongue and to avoid the barbs. With a quick jerk, he detached the tongue from its source.

The creatures all bellowed in pain, their heads shaking. Galal hopped toward them, intent on finishing them off, and fell to the ground as his leg slipped from under him. With his only working arm, he immediately began to crawl toward the three oversized lizards. They didn’t move, seemingly stuck in place as they cried out, and as Galal came upon one he reached under its head, tearing at its throat with his claws.

He moved on to the next as the simple minded lizard lay dying, its body spasming as death overcame it. He repeated the action with the other two, leaving him alone amidst blood and lizard carcasses.

As the sun reached the opposite side of the portal of sky open to him, the numbness was all but completely faded. Galal ate the lizard flesh as the sunlight began to fade, opting for the limbs and the outer flesh, avoiding the organs within. There was no telling if they were poisonous, but it was the only food available to him, and so he ate it. The flesh itself lacked the pungent taste he was used to, the blood almost sweet in comparison to that of an elks.

As he finished the meal of meat, blood, and marrow, Galal gathered the remains of the carcasses and moved them to his makeshift graveyard, no more than a pile by the wall. He tossed the bones and organs on top, the pile of bones and refuse collapsing slightly at the new found weight.

He had fought, as he had always done. He had won, as he had always done. Each day brought victory. Each day brought strength. But even a champion must be wary.