Cinza was frightened and hungry, as a week-old oribi antelope is bound to be that has not seen its mother for thirty hours, but the delicately formed little creature still crouched obediently where he had been left beneath the mimosa, bush that shadedhim from the burning African sun. His twitching nose and sensitive ears straited anxiously for the first sign of his mother returning not knowing she would never come again, having fallen a victim on the previous night to the claws of a prowling and hungry leopard.
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