In the Namibian desert of southwestern Africa, a mother cheetah cautiously looked around every few minutes.
Her body lay low in the grass, but her head remained held high as she deeply surveyed her surroundings.
Only after repeatedly patrolling the area for several hours did she finally relax and slip into a patch of tall grass.
Hidden in the grass was a litter of six cheetah cubs, all less than a day old.
"Miaomiao..." The cubs gave occasional cries.
Their bodies were extremely fragile. They might not open their eyes for ten days, and for nearly a month they would have to hide in this patch of grass.
It was the dry season, when competition among predators was even more brutal. The mother cheetah, tasked with raising six cubs, was destined to face the harshest test of survival.
Fortunately, all the animals tried to gather near water sources, so this grassland, far from the river, was somewhat safer.
After cautiously scanning the surroundings again, the mother cheetah lay down beside the cubs, allowing her children to instinctively suckle.
However, one of the six little cheetahs did not seem to be drinking milk like its brothers and sisters. Instead, it kicked hard against the flattened grass nest, trying to stand.
The fluffy down on its back bobbed with its movements. Its four little legs trembled, yet it could never manage to stand.
This little cub had only just been born. It would need at least two or three days before it could crawl, yet it was not thinking about filling its belly and was foolishly trying to stand, wasting its strength.
The mother cheetah shifted her body slightly, changing her position so she was closer to it. She hoped the little cub would smell the milk and do the right thing.