No Greater Love

The autopsy, if a physician had been present that morning to perform one, would have cataloged her death by schistosomal hepatitis and its complications, biliary coccidiosis, and fascioliasis, not the assumed congenital bronchiectasis and bilateral pheochromocytoma.

He couldn’t understand the words or their definitions. All he knew was his mate was dead.

Twelve years together they enjoyed. In that time, they ruled as no other pair did. Their children, now grown (are children really ever grown?) were not present at her death and he understood why.

It was no longer safe to be here.

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust, balms the hearts of those who have the luxury of time to listen and mourn.

He did not.

She was unburied, uncared for, and unmoving. These were his facts of his new life without her. He did not enjoy the hand life dealt him, but he understood what was required of him. His mate would have the respect of a Queen, even in death.

And with that, he made up his mind to punish those who thought differently.

By sundown, they came.

First in pairs, then in packs.

What they wanted was unthinkable to fathom. The price they would pay was going to be high for even the thought.

They would fight, for it was their job to act so.

He would fight, for it was his duty to act so.

Spectators came, but kept their distance.

Death was in the air, looming near, and ready to fill long exhausted quotas.

What was to transpire required no external authorities to monitor or regulate.

What was to transpire only required a body count that the early dawn could authenticate.

He positioned himself between his Queen and the marauders.

His love for her demanded this of himself.

Only the felines with acute night vision witnessed the intensity of the largest male hippo on the plain defending his dead mate from a score of crocodiles throughout the night. Those downstream wallowed in the blood from the battle and knew not to stain themselves with the remnants.

The carcasses of 12 large crocs, each bitten in half by tusks 18 inches in length and 6 inches at the base, detailed the ferocity of the species.

The river belongs to the mammals. Dead or alive, it would remain that way.

Love dictated so. Death would accept no other option.