The Great Game

The Russian bear, the Persian cat and the English lion; together they played The Great Game. All fur and claws and bloodied teeth, they were proud beasts who would neither sit still and take insult or strike too quick to guarantee a fall. Oh no, this was a game of wits, backed with brute strength and the sheer will to emerge on top. It was a show of talent unmatched, the bear would dance while the lion roared and the cat would walk on wire. All three would circle land and paper like the vultures they adamantly denied they had no relation to. The lion feared the bear had strayed too close to its kingdoms and the cat feared being crushed in her tracks altogether. This tournament of shadows, so long and weary for all those below the three, for 8 decades they played. Though it was undoubtedly a magnificent display, in the end the eagle rose higher than the rest. Was it the ability to fly? Or did its sucess lie in its cunning eyes.  Years later in this metallic age we wonder, which beast will now strike. Who can move swiftly, quietly and with the power of several beasts combined? We wait now, like weak pawns, to finally see the face of our new king and queen. We wait now, we wait.