The Thinking Rocks by C. Allan Butkus

more of the calf's life out onto the ground.  The big cat had
little time to survey his kill.
    The mother had arrived
on the scene.  He rolled away just in time to be missed by the mother’s tusks,
as she was very intent upon having him pay for the attack on the calf. 
She came to a screeching halt, pivoted in an amazingly short distance, and came
for him again.  He roared at her and struck out with a one-two combination
of swinging claws; he was ready to leap on her, but couldn't see a way past the
tusks.  Even though his claws cut her trunk deeply, she was beyond pain
and pressed her attack.  Her tusks were six and a half feet long and even
though they didn't penetrate his body she was able to get them under his body
and flipped his 500 pounds as though he were a feather.  He was thrown
twenty yards and landed in a heap, but he rolled to his feet.  Although he
was shaken up, he wasn't hurt.  The rest of the mammoth herd was arriving
and the saber tooth decided it would be best to leave as quickly as
possible.  He spun around and dashed into the brush.  As fast as the
mammoths were in a charge, they were no matches for the big-shouldered cat who
was trying to avoid being turned into a flat cat.  He knew the herd would
follow him into the brush, and they did. The ground shook and trees went down
before the charging herd.  The night was torn asunder by their anguished
trumpeting.  He sprang from place to place always heading up; he knew that
his safety lay in the heights where the mammoths couldn't climb.  In a few
minutes, they gave up pursuit, but they continued to bellow and tear up the
brush in frustration.  The hills and rocks were his domain and the plains
and meadows were the range of the mammoths. He knew he must stay up high until
they moved on, he was sure they would track him with their long noses if he
came down to open country.    He
continued to climb higher toward his den.  It was high above the valley
and had a ledge where he could sun himself.  Nothing from below could see
him unless he looked over the ledge and down into the valley.
    He
stretched again and resumed grooming himself with long slow strokes of his
tongue.  Most of his day was spent sleeping and grooming. When he was
hunting, he would spend about four night hours looking for prey.  He only
hunted when hungry and could go for days without food.  When he wasn't
hungry he explored the country around him and watched how the other animals
lived and died.  There was little for him to fear in this land, but death
came to all creatures.  Cunning was a word he didn't know, but it was as
much a part of his life as were his speed and strength.  He was by
nature’s decree a hunter, and this in itself forced the development of intelligence. 
The hunted lived by surviving attacks, the hunter by planning the
attacks.  He yawned again. When the sun started to set, he would return to
his kill and feed.  Others would be feeding on his kill, but he knew how
to take care of them.
    She Wolf
     
    The she-wolf was constantly
hungry.  It didn't seem that she could kill enough to satisfy her
body.  That wasn't true.  She could kill enough for herself, but the
real problems were the five puppies she was raising.  They were always
hungry.  Their eyes were open, and they had needle sharp teeth, but after
only five weeks, they were still far from being able to survive on their
own.  Her den was dug into the bank of a low hill and hidden in the
brush.  She knew she would have to travel farther today in search of food. 
She had over hunted the area around the den.  The puppies were safe deep
in the den and she had just fed them, so they should remain there until she
returned.
    She tested the wind and picked up the
scent of mammoth.  She would see if there was food in that
direction.  Moving off quickly, she slid into a mile-eating lope; her body
seemed to float over the ground.  She moved with eyes scanning the
landscape, ears erect and