Proxima
1 May 2020
Alpha was hunting. He was rushing through his jungle at break neck speed, close behind the giant grazer. He realised there was a massive series of meals in the beast. As he dashed, he worked on his poem to celebrate the hunt. Already it was several hundred stanzas long, with descriptions of many other hunts, and it was polishing up to be a masterpiece. When he passed it on, to others of his kind, it would make him famous.