By Annabelle Kennedy, TIWP student

There are two kinds of fear: Prey fear and predator fear. 

Prey fear is the subtle twitches in your muscles when you hear something moving in the bushes. Prey fear is the way you glance from side to side, looking for a threat, even when there’s nothing there. You want to stop looking. Why can’t you stop looking? Prey fear is the sharp primal howling in the back of your head as it vanishes underwater after the crocodile drags his teeth across your back. Prey fear is the simultaneous abject terror and murderous desperation and the raw high-pitched rage of being cornered that feels like a scream, of an animal that knows it is destined to be eaten. 

Predator fear is different. Predator fear is the thick fog of unfamiliarity closing in suddenly and fast, because why are they hunting me? Why do I fear them? Predator fear is the way the lion scrambles back from the hyena, confusion in its eyes because after existing so long at the top it has grown used to peace, but now everything has changed, you better start running, you fool. Predator fear is running as fast as you can, as far as you can, but your teeth and claws are useless, because all empires fall, and the king must fall before the kingdom does, bleeding time from a wound that won’t close.