The cub followed his mother in silence, his tiny paws pressing into the damp earth. The scent of blood still clung to the air, refusing to fade. The jungle around them felt different—darker, heavier. It was as if the trees themselves had witnessed the battle and whispered its tale through the rustling leaves.
His mother walked with slow, deliberate steps, her body carrying the weight of victory—but also the weight of something else. Something unspoken.
The cub's mind swirled with questions. He had seen death before—in glimpses of his past life, in boardrooms filled with silent threats and hollow smiles—but never like this. Never so raw, so final.
Finally, he gathered the courage to speak.
"Was he your enemy?"
The tigress did not answer immediately. Instead, she paused by the roots of an ancient banyan tree, her golden eyes unreadable. "Enemy," she murmured, as if testing the word on her tongue. "He was a challenger."
The cub frowned. "What's the difference?"
The tigress turned to him. "An enemy seeks to destroy you. A challenger seeks to take what you have."
Her gaze flickered back toward the clearing they had left behind. "He was a strong tiger. Once, he ruled his own land. But he lost it. And when a tiger loses his land, he has only two choices—accept defeat, or take from another."
She lowered her head slightly, as if the weight of her own words pressed upon her. "He chose to take."
The cub's ears flattened. He did not know why, but those words stung.
To take from another.
Hadn't he done the same in his past life? Hadn't he clawed his way up, seizing power from those weaker, believing it was his right?
He had not killed for it. But in another way, he had.
He had crushed men beneath his ambitions, stolen their dreams, signed papers that ruined lives—all in the name of his own survival.
And in the end, what had it given him?
Nothing.
He had fallen. And now, here he was, reborn into a world where the rules were no different.
The tigress watched him, sensing his turmoil.
"You do not approve?" she asked.
The cub hesitated, unsure of how to answer.
Finally, he whispered, "Was there another way?"
His mother's expression did not change. "No."
The cub looked away. He wanted to believe she was wrong. He wanted to believe there was always another way.
But deep down, he knew the truth.
The jungle did not allow for weakness.
And neither had the world he came from.
The tigress turned and continued walking. "Come," she said. "You must understand this, cub. One day, you will fight. And when that day comes, you will not ask if there is another way. You will only ask if you are strong enough to win."
The cub swallowed.
He wanted to argue. To tell her that he would be different. That he would find another way.
But the dead tiger's eyes still haunted him.
And he feared that when the time came, he would fight.
And he would not hesitate.