Fatalism or Providence?

Ivory brute trudged through the desert sands, pants pulling from him in nearly ragged gasps. The heat scorched his thick pelt, and he could nearly feel the skin beneath his fur burning. It was to fucking hot for this. Eyes watered, from the bright light, he found himself trudging towards a mound of large rocks, hoping that an offer of coolness lurked inside. Inching towards the rock, he could feel the heat radiating from the stone, that stood towering alone in the desert sun.


He would slip inside the tower of stone, his fur brushing against the narrow tunnel as he followed it, his eyes momentarily blinded at the drastic light change. A comfortable sigh left his jaws, as he ventured farther into the cooling delight. The tunnels suddenly widened, and he looked around in the minuscule ambient light, and was nearly delighted to see a small pool of water.

Stepping away from the tunnel he approached it, lowering his head to drink. Audits flickered foward at the sound of foot-steps and he stopped mid-drink, to look around him. Twitching his ears in indifference, he contiuned his drink, sinking to his haunches and his belly as he rested near the cool water. Whomever it was, well they weren't high on his priority list.

Lazily his jaws parted as he lifted his maw from the water, and he spoke in an indifferent tone.

"Those of action are inclined to fatalism, while those of thought are inclined to believe in providence, tell me stranger, which do you think you will be? "