The jungle was alive with sounds—chirping birds, rustling leaves, the distant roar of a lion. But for the newborn cub, there was only confusion. His eyes fluttered open, the world spinning in a blur of shapes and shadows. His small body felt strange, alien, as if he was a prisoner inside it. The warmth of the sun kissed his fur, but it did nothing to calm the storm of thoughts that raced through his mind.
Who am I?
The question echoed in his head, but the answer was lost, buried beneath a crushing weight of memories that didn't belong to a tiger. He could remember... faces, voices, moments. A man—he was once a man, wasn't he? The thoughts came in fragments, like shards of glass—broken and scattered, too sharp to hold together.
His small paws scraped the earth beneath him as he tried to stand. He stumbled, legs unsteady, falling to the ground in a heap. The jungle was vast, untamed, and now, it was his world. But it was nothing like the world he remembered.
A low growl rumbled from nearby, and his ears perked up. His instincts kicked in, sharp and primal, and he instinctively hid beneath the shadow of a thick tree, holding his breath. A large figure emerged from the underbrush—a tigress, her golden eyes glowing in the dappled sunlight.
She looked at him, eyes narrowing, as if trying to understand what he was. Without a sound, she moved closer, her steps silent, graceful.
"You are not like the others," she said, her voice soft but firm.
The cub felt a strange shiver run through him. How could she... speak?
He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he growled, the sound low and unfamiliar in his throat. A wave of panic swept over him. He wasn't human anymore. His body, his form... he was a tiger.