"Grrrrrr!"

  That was the only sound I could hear; the scent of blood hung heavy in the air. I could only see several red eyes glowing in the darkness, reflecting the flicker of the campfire. I felt my body heating up rapidly, my head throbbing, and my hand moving on its own.

  I leaped up. My body instinctively went into combat mode; my fur stood on end, and I crouched low to appear larger. My heart was racing at a thousand miles per hour, but I forced myself to analyze the situation. How the hell do I get out of this? I focused my vision and recognized about five dogs, but I knew there were more. I was screwed.

  My knife was far away; I had been careless and left it elsewhere. I had two options: run, or play the hero and fight. It occurred to me that perhaps the fire would send them running in terror. Climbing the tree was too difficult because my shelter was in the way, and the animals were closing in bit by bit. "What the fuck do I do?" I asked myself. Instinctively, I wanted to bolt, but deep down, I already knew I was dead.

  If I was going to die again, I was at least going to go down fighting. With a bravery I had never felt before, I reached toward the fire and grabbed a burning branch, then began waving it like a madman. Some of the dogs backed away in fear. Seeing my chance, I took off running with all my might.

  For the first time, I felt that the legs of this animal were incredibly flexible. I ran like a warrior, dodging obstacles to distract them... or so I thought.

  —"Samuel is exaggerating the situation. He only took two steps and fell face-first onto the ground. Samuel is an idiot".

  Shut up, damn voice! But, as much as it pained me to admit it, she was right. What was a heroic escape in my mind was, in reality, pathetic. I collapsed right in front of the pack.

  Lying on the ground, overwhelmed by a bitter helplessness, I could only watch as those damn dogs lunged at me. The first one clamped its jaws onto my arm and began to tug; another latched onto my head. Then came more bites—to my legs, my torso, everywhere. I screamed until my throat tore, hearing the crunch of my own bones and feeling the heat of my blood soaking the earth. The pain was unbearable, the worst I had felt in two lifetimes.

  The others crowded over me, tearing and devouring my flesh in a feeding frenzy. They flipped me over, and in the midst of that hell, I managed to see the sky. It was clear; the stars shone with an indifferent peace, and a shooting star streaked across the firmament. What irony—the world goes on while I am dying. We are so small. Slowly, the cold and the darkness began to envelop me. At least, in the final second, I stopped feeling.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  [Evolution requirements failed. Evolution delayed. You failed to survive]

  [Calculating penalty. Penalty postponed]

  [Searching for new incarnation...]

  I opened my eyes and found myself in a place of darkness. I felt like I was floating, weightless. I was shocked. Why am I not dead? Is this the place before the hereafter? Those damn letters were glowing in front of me. What does "new incarnation" mean? Am I going back? Before I knew it, I fell asleep again.

  [Incarnation found]

  I opened my eyes once more. The first thing I saw were two beings of my species, two "Viktors." They looked at me with infinite tenderness, the way one looks at a newborn son. In that instant, I understood that I had been born again; this time, it seemed I had parents. I raised my hand and looked at it—it was tiny, pale, and looked weak, with very small, soft claws. My mother tucked me into her pouch; strangely, it was very comfortable and warm. I hugged her from inside. I could still feel the echo of the pain, as if my bones were still being crushed by those fangs. I began to cry—a baby’s cry that my mother soothed with a soft purr.

  Suddenly, I felt myself leaving my body. I was in my astral projection; I could do this when I was a stone, but I hadn't known how to activate it. I could see my mother; she was lying on her back, grooming herself. She measured a bit over a meter tall, looking much larger than I had been before I died.

  My astral projection snapped back to my body, so I couldn't see much else. Slowly, I drifted off to sleep.

  I woke up and returned to reality. At least I wasn't being eaten, but I was very hungry. I looked inside the pouch and the only thing at hand were my mother's teats, so, like any hungry baby, I began to eat. There was no room for human pride when the stomach was in charge.

  I still couldn't move very well and could feel that I was very small. With what little strength I had after eating, I managed to poke my head out through the opening of the pouch. I could see outside. The first thing I saw was the flash of sunlight. I also saw my parents' shelter; it was made of many sticks and leaves. It didn't look like a house—it was more like a bird's nest. I realized I was high up in a tree.

  For two weeks, the nest was my universe. My mother was my fortress of warmth, and my father was the provider who braved the forest. Seeing him arrive with food, I couldn't help but think: "Even in this world, the male is the provider." Although my strength was growing, the panic of peering beyond the pouch kept me a prisoner. The memories of my previous death returned every time I closed my eyes, reminding me that, outside this tree, the forest remained hungry.