Tiger

Tigers. Unlike other animals that have grown an instinctive fear for humans, they are fearless. They do take care, looking behind leaves, analyzing their environment, being almost invisible. They’re not scared of humans at all, they have also studied us, weak and harmless without guns. They know who they are. Strong beasts capable of ripping out some flesh and roaming some bones until satisfaction says it’s enough. They can devore and drink blood leaving only a red trace that's says, danger. Just to show off how tough it can be. Positioning itself as the wildest of them all, they intimidate with their look, not afraid to stare until you surrender and leave their earned territory. They're loners in the jungles and forests, so independent and self sufficient, mystical in their skin with such elegant design of unique stripes and shapes. When the dark falls and the wild spirit takes control, it comes out to run in the myst, it gallops to the river shore and waits for its pray. Patiently waits. There, on the other side, he reflects. And then the instinct attacks, the weakest, eventually has to die.