The tiger’s primal roar had scarcely faded on the breeze that rustled the tall grass when his mate appeared.
“Seriously, Sumon? Seriously? Have you no better ways to pass your day than menacing fat European wildlife photographers? It is…unseemly for you to behave in this manner.”
Sumon was not intimidated by her reproachful tone. “What is unseemly, Kanta, is that you should berate me thusly. Have you forgotten the indignities inflicted upon my sire? Not content to merely kill him, the two-legged bastards committed acts no honorable predator would even consider. They stripped the flesh from his bones! They treated him as one of their damnable harvest fields…plucking his whiskers…his claws…his…they took his tail, for Vishnu’s sake!"
Sensing the futility of argument, Kanta flopped down and sighed, resigned to enduring an entire afternoon of Sumon’s impassioned, incessant and irritating anti-human rantings.
This story was written for the Race The Date flash fiction photo prompt.