This greedy leopard wants 2 baby warthog

The sun hung like a molten coin in the vast savanna sky, beating down on the baked earth. Silas, a leopard whose coat was a masterpiece of shadow and light, lay draped over a low, gnarled acacia branch, utterly still save for the slow, rhythmic thump of his tail. His eyes, shards of amber, were fixed on a patch of rust-colored dust near a cluster of whispering tamboti trees.

There, snuffling happily, were two bundles of bristly cuteness – twin baby warthogs. Plump, naïve, and blissfully unaware of the danger that watched them. One, with a particularly endearing tuft of hair on its head, rooted near its sibling, who was attempting to dig for a succulent tuber.

Silas was not merely hungry; he was greedy. One warthog piglet was a good meal. Two, however, was a feast. Two was an indulgence. Two was a statement. He had stalked the mother, Prudence, for days, noting her habits, her protective ferocity. But Prudence was currently out of sight, snuffling through a particularly promising patch of damp earth, her attention momentarily diverted.

This was his chance.

His muscles, coiled steel, tensed. He launched himself from the branch, a golden phantom falling silent as a sigh onto the dry grass. His approach was a masterclass in predatory stealth – a slinking, almost liquid movement that brought him within striking distance before the first scent of his presence could register on the warthogs’ sensitive snouts.

The first hint of danger came as a shadow. The tufted piglet, sensing a shift in the light, squeaked, a high-pitched sound of alarm. Its twin froze, a tiny statue of fear.

Silas exploded forward. His goal was not just one, but both. He aimed for the first piglet with a swift, practiced paw, intending to scoop it up, then immediately whirl for the second.

Chaos erupted. The piglets shrieked, a piercing chorus of terror that ripped through the quiet afternoon. Silas snagged the tufted piglet with a precise, though not fatal, grab. It squirmed furiously, its little hooves kicking. But as he turned for the second, a bellow of pure, unadulterated rage split the air.

Prudence. She had heard.

She burst from the tamboti trees, a living, snorting battering ram. Her tusks, though not as long as a boar’s, were formidable, sharpened by years of digging and defense. Her bristly mane stood on end, her eyes blazing with a primal, uncompromising fury.

Silas, momentarily startled by her speed, instinctively tightened his grip on the first piglet. It squealed louder. He met Prudence’s charge with a snarl, dropping the piglet for a split second to swipe a clawed paw at her face. The blow connected, leaving a shallow rake across her snout, but it barely registered.

Prudence was a whirlwind of bristly muscle and blind, maternal instinct. She lunged, head down, tusks aimed for Silas’s flank. He was faster, lithe and agile, dancing back from her charge. But his greed was playing against him. He wanted both. He could have bolted with the first piglet in his jaws and been gone. But the second, still paralyzed by fear, was just a few feet away.

He darted around Prudence, feinting left, then right, trying to weave past her furious defenses to snatch the other piglet. The first one, stunned and terrified, lay whimpering in the dust.

Prudence was relentless. She turned with surprising speed, her snorts sounding like a steam engine. She saw her other piglet, still rooted to the spot, and positioned herself squarely between it and Silas. Every time he tried to dart past, she was there, a solid wall of protective wrath.

Silas hissed, frustrated. He was a leopard, king of stealth and ambush, not a brawler. He dodged another furious lunge, feeling the wind of her tusks as they sliced the air where his leg had been moments before. A shallow cut bloomed on his shoulder, a souvenir of Prudence’s desperate defense.

His greed was costing him. The piglet he’d initially caught was recovering, stirring, and letting out a weak, tremulous cry. The other still shook, frozen.

He looked from the vulnerable, crying piglet to the other, shielded by the unyielding mother. He considered his options. To try and subdue Prudence would be a dangerous, energy-sapping fight, one that might leave him injured enough to compromise his next hunt. To abandon the one he had already claimed and go for the other was unthinkable.

With a final, frustrated growl, Silas made his choice. He lunged back towards the first piglet, a swift, decisive movement. He snatched it up, its small body limp in his powerful jaws, and turned tail, melting into the tall grass as quickly as he had appeared.

Prudence watched him go, then collapsed, panting, beside her remaining piglet. She nudged it gently with her snout, a low, comforting rumble vibrating in her chest. The piglet, still trembling, leaned into her, burying its small head in her rough fur.

The sun continued its slow descent. Silas, far away, found a secluded spot to enjoy his meal. It was a good meal, substantial and satisfying. But as he ate, he could still hear the ghost of the second piglet’s squeal, and the furious snorts of the mother who had thwarted his greedy ambition. One was satisfying. Two would have been triumphant. And in the heart of the greedy leopard, a sliver of desire, unfulfilled, still gnawed.