Looking across the plain, Dilmo could make out the distant shapes of live things bobbing up and down as they walked about. Other things appeared still, except for the occasional movement of their heads as they looked around from time to time, no doubt checking for danger.

Dilmo knew what they were doing. She could see the vapor rising from the water in front of them, water on which birds were landing, and which she herself would be drinking later on, but not yet.  Although she was thirsty enough to want to go right now, she was wise enough to know better. She would wait. Later, she could move stealthily, keeping low with her keen eyes watching for any movement. It would be cooler too. Now it was hot. Vapor rose not only from the water, but also from the ground in front of it, shimmering and dancing left and right, so that the mountains in the far distance appeared to be continually changing shape. The grass was green, but it wouldn’t be for long, now that the hot days were back. The few trees between her and the water offered shade, but no real protection. Dilmo could climb trees, but her young cubs could not, and if she had to fight, she could do that too, but the danger was too great for the little ones.

If her cubs were thirsty, they could have her milk, but she needed water, so she would leave her cubs in their den, and make the journey alone. She could easily be back by sunrise. Looking back across her shoulder, she saw that the cubs were playing, jumping on each other and then running to hide behind a mound of dirt, only to be pounced upon when they were found.

Three perfect cubs. They were just one year old, and were Dilmo’s sole pre-occupation. For these cubs she would lay down her life without even a thought. She would fight fearlessly and viciously. Whatever had to be done to ensure their survival, she would do. How they came to be, she had no idea. Although she was their real mother, she had no memory of their birth, or of love for a male partner. She didn’t really even know that there were three of them. Just a perfect one, and another, and another, as though they were all one, and she was complete with them as they were.

If there had been someone around who could have calculated it, they would have determined this year to be the year 55,100 BCE (Before Common Era, or as some would call it, Before Christ). At this time on the planet Earth, Dilmo was just one of millions of wild animals that roamed the plains, the valleys and the mountains. Not one of these animals had even the slightest notion that it was possible to die. They all just did what they did, not giving any thought at all to what tomorrow might bring. In that respect, they were profoundly fortunate, for they did not know fear or insecurity as humans on Earth now know it. They were in fact completely free from these sorts of emotions except when they felt threatened, and even then, they were not afraid to die, because death was outside their conscious awareness.

So although the times were fraught with danger, all the living things on planet Earth were able to explore and enjoy the world in all its beauty. The air was clear and fresh, the oceans and their beaches were perfect, and every living plant was beautiful in every way. It was a good time to be alive on planet Earth. Dilmo and her three little cubs were very happy.

When night fell, Dilmo moved quietly from her den and made her way to the top of a mound of dirt about 50 meters forward of the den. She was crouching low so that her cat shaped silhouette would not be seen. All still. All quiet, except for an occasional squawk from a few birds settling in the trees ahead.  No wind. That was good, because her scent wouldn’t be blown around for all to smell. She moved forward, taking several quick steps then stopping dead still, then starting again. On the horizon, the moon began to rise, but it was of no great concern. There were lots of clouds in the sky, so the moonlight would be dim, and it wouldn’t reflect in her eyes to alert an enemy. When the moon was visible, Dilmo would keep her head down to make sure.

In this world you wanted to see others’ eyes, but you didn’t want yours to be seen. You could tell, even from a long distance, how big an animal was by its eyes. Their color, their shape, their size. All important. Better too that the moon was behind you rather than in front, so it would reflect off your enemy’s eyes and not yours, if they were silly enough to look at you when the moon wasn’t behind a cloud.

Dilmo didn’t know that the water she wanted was about 5 kilometers away. To her, it was just a fair distance and she could get to it fairly quickly. She was able to move at over sixty kilometers an hour if she had to, so at full pace the water was just five minutes away. Then she would have to get back, and she knew she couldn’t do such a distance at full pace. She also needed to allow time to drink. So the best strategy was to sneak up and conserve her energy. Time wasn’t especially important right now, but her safety was.

Something else Dilmo didn’t know was that she was indeed an awesome sight. She was enormous in stature, powerful in every respect, with huge razor sharp pointed fangs that hung down from her top jaw. She was a yellowy orange color with dark stripes that ran vertically around her body. Striped markings on her face worked as camouflage, especially in the patchy shade. She had long white whiskers on both sides of her face, so long that even a fully grown Gorilla couldn’t have outstretched his arms in front of her and reached the full width of her face and whiskers. Not that any sane Gorilla would even dare to try it. Smart Gorillas stayed well out of Dilmo’s way. Her massive claws were larger than even the biggest Gorilla’s fingers, and one powerful swipe of a paw with her claws unsheathed would easily remove a Gorilla’s head.

So although Dilmo was stealthy, and exercised great care in getting to her water, she really could have strolled to it with ease, for most other animals would not compete with her in a fight. It was peculiar that Dilmo didn’t appreciate her own stature in the wild. She had rarely been challenged, and when she was, she easily won any ensuing fight. Next to the huge Lions that roamed these plains, and of course the really gigantic Mammoths, which if annoyed were the most ferocious animals of all, the Saber Tooth Tiger was fairly well left to its own devices. But Dilmo always took care. It was an instinctive thing, and she had no control over it.

That night, Dilmo drank with great satisfaction and little, if any, distraction. A few Hyenas; giant birds squawking as though it was their water and it shouldn’t be taken, and some monkeys who yelped as they ran off into the trees. After checking the plain ahead of her, and noticing for the first time the coolness of the night, she stalked off to rejoin her cubs in the den.

Tomorrow, there would be no early start. They would all sleep, and when the day ended, she would hunt for food, but not tonight.