When this world was still an icy wilderness, wild and untamed I walked this realm. When it was still quiet, undisturbed, before the clatter of foreign voices and the invasion of greed I was sovereign. I am as much a part of this land as the harsh winds that to this day still beats the moors and the mountains in the north, I move like the rushing rivers, my body curving like the valleys in the west.
They came to the heart of my land, tearing down trees, ripping the roots from the earth that all life clung to, they built anthills in the wounds they had made, and with bleeding earth and tree they built dens of burning, smoking mud, pushing aside brothers and sisters. Both prey and hunter alike.
My race started to diminish as they chased us from our home. OUR HOME. I am daughter of this land. Child of the forests, I belong here, But they hunted us down, twisted the things they ripped from the ground; stone and wood into tooth and claw, the earth I walked on, gutted and raw. They named us killers as they slaughtered our kind.
Now the forests are torn down, we hide in the shadows so few of us left, as they pour from their anthill’s, sprawling into dirty, vast chaos. We become ghosts, mere phantoms, myths sitting on their lips to scare their cubs. They call me a beast.
Now in the wake of my ancestors I cling to the sparse woodland, run on the rugged moors, my body sleek and powerful, as black as the night, or as gold as the sands. I am as fierce as legend claims. I am real, not a ghost, just very good at hiding, in a world which chooses to believe I am a myth I remain very much alive, this land has always been my home and will always be.
Very sorry for my very late piece, I have been very ill this past week, but finally I managed to scrape together this short piece for the Exmoor Beast which should have been posted on Sunday. This is for last week’s theme. This week were taking a break and gathering your opinions of what our theme should be
Stories of big cats have been around for a long, long time, under the guises of the Exmoor Beast or the Beast of Bodmin. Across the U.K sightings have been reported, over the last couple of hundred years bodies have been found, pictures taken, and some have even been caught. A theory is that these creatures are an indigenous ancient breed of cougar or panther. When I was about 5 or 6 I came across a gold linx-type one, and to this day I remember the colour of it’s yellow eyes and the silent power of its body with absolute clarity, since then there has never been any doubt in my mind of the existence of these creatures, and have since talked to games keepers who are fully aware of the presence of wild cats, some have even been reported to be as large as jaguars with long shaggy fur. Having always been fascinated by these creatures I knew in this challenge they would be my subject.