Choose an animal. Write about it.

The road is as black as the hair on my leg; hot, uncrossable. I place my right paw next to the heated yellow line, feel the burn through my skin, pull back. How am I supposed to get my family across this road without getting splattered onto the boiling pavement?

My babies jump behind me, their white lined tails high in the air. Their ebony eyes wide, the matching hair on their backs risen. The growl coming from the zooming engines scare them, make them almost impossible to contain. Not only does the sound send chills through the air, the smoky, choking and acidic smell, causes our muscles to tighten, our minds to jumble.

I listen to the growls, try to discern a break in their rhythmic churning. The ground vibrates under my feet as another one passes. The rush of wind slaps me in the face, sending me back into the huddled group of my babies. They squeal and scatter.

I motion for them to come back together, signal to move forward, onto the road. They follow with blind faith.

A loud blare booms through the valley. The sound frightens my babies, but I keep running forward, hoping they are as close behind. I can’t glance back and check, I must keep my eyes on the spot just ahead. If I don’t, the straight line I intended to make will become a zigzag, and more time on the road, means more time for death.  

A screech of rubber across asphalt. Wind rushing over, then pulling up and under, lifting my body with the power of its momentum. Peddles kick up and hit me in the side, causing instant pain. I command my body to keep moving, to keep going. If I keep going, so will my babies.

A shadow passes overhead, then sunlight returns. My eyes try to shift from the sudden change, but they’ve become blurry. I take a deep breath of air, smelling for grass to guide my way. But it’s overpowered by the smell of burned rubber and exhaust.

My babies bump into me, their tiny bleats of fear pushing me into action. I spur my muscles forward. After an agonizing, long second, my feet hit the soft grasses on the other side. My babies’ feet follow. I try to count their padding, but its drowned out by the pounding of my heart.

I quickly check them, make sure they’ve made it across. They have. We’ve made it, by some stroke of luck.

Taking the fastest path along the tree line, I direct my feet toward our destination: life giving water.

Can you guess which animal I am?