The Way of the World

All their life they had been kept. The two-legs took care of them. They fed them. They watered them. They even sometimes let the small ones play with them. Occasionally one of their number would disappear, but that was the way of things. One day, they, too, would disappear, leaving the others. That was how it worked.

But things were changing. The two-legs seemed nervous, anxious. They could feel it emanating from them. Their numbers stopped thinning, as well. The young were being born, but the older ones were not making room for them. The two-legs made the enclosure larger, but it wasn't enough. There were too many of them!

The day came. The two-legs herded them into a box, all of them. It was tight, and they travelled in darkness for a long time. When the box opened, there were no enclosures. No borders. The two-legs seemed sad, they could feel it. But in front of them, a new world opened up. Plenty of food coming from the ground, plenty of room for the herd.

As they traveled, exploring the new world, they found more of their kind. But these were not like them. This herd had not lived with the two-legs and knew nothing of their ways. This herd did not seem to like the new herd arriving. Anger and fear seemed to come from them forcefully.

The new herd walked on. The old herd lay behind them, destroyed, defeated. They were weak. The two-legs had kept them well, but they knew nothing of life out here, in this world. A few of the young had followed the new herd. They could still be taught, they could still learn the ways of the world.