This came to me in the form of a flashback while looking at some images of early hominid fossils. If it was a PL memory, it was a sweet one. The terrain was a mixture of stone, mostly granite, and some trees. There was little of what we would call “bare dirt”, though it was in some places. I am running, tracking something. I had picked up its scent some ways back, the scent of meat and blood. I've been tracking this scent for I don't know how long. I have no sense of measuring distance or time. It's either light or dark, near or far. I am no animal, I think, though I know that there are things that consider me food. Right now someone has something that I consider food. I don't even have a sense that these are a someone. They are simply other beings, similar to myself, and they have made a kill. I am no hunter of any great consequence, though I can secure my own food. It's far more thrilling, and often easier, to take what others have already done the hard part for. I steal. I am a scavenger. Something about the stealing of others' kills causes a rush in me that I am quite addicted to. I like the way the adrenalin makes me feel. It's a challenge, and the less work I have to do for what I need, the better. Of course, I know nothing about adrenaline and whatnot. I know only that I am small and fast and I have found a way to survive when the food is scarce, and there is nothing right or wrong about it. It is only a state of being. Ahead I see two males. They have their kill. They have stopped to examine it. It isn't much. It will never do for them, but it will be just right for me. I am a small, quick, female. I move in close, quiet, they are disappointed in their catch. They hold it carelessly. Perfect... I am out of the brushes like a shot. Before they know what has happened, I have the kill, a modest-sized rodent of some sort, in my hand. I am gone like the shadows. I can hear them throwing fits, but I don't care. I find someplace safe and far away from everyone and enjoy the meal. I savor every bite.