Years of futile attempts had left him nearly hopeless, but the yearning within him had never subsided. For so long now, he had been chasing after something that deep inside him, he thought that he could never have. To such lengths he had gone, braving eras of change, harsh and unforgiving terrains, and antagonistic rivals. On top of all that, he had had his heart torn in two opposing directions, between the love that a mate could provide and between what he had sought since the day he had been born.
But his mind was made up, and now he knew where his love lay, what his true goal in life was. Once again, he was galvanized by the knowledge of his own strength and perseverance. He would stop at nothing.
And now he had it. Finally, after years of struggle and trial after trial, the acorn was his.
It had seemed too good to be true. Always, just when he had it in his clutches, some higher, intervening force would strip him of his prize. It had happened more times than he could keep track of, but always — always — it left him just as devastated as the first time he had lost it.
But now. Now, in this glorious present time, a time he hoped would go on forever, an eternity with his love. Now he had it in the hollow of an old oak tree, in the open forest with the late afternoon sunlight filtering through autumn's red and yellow foliage. In the distance, birds chirped and the wind blew peacefully, the leaves rustling. Winter was coming, and he was prepared.
At first, he had been so afraid that this would be just like the other times. That the nut would slip away from him at the last moment and his search would begin anew. But he had been in the hollow of the old oak tree for days now, guarding the nut and furnishing the place for his winter stay. Nothing had happened to it, no malicious force had stolen it from him. It came as a shock to him — something so surreal, too good to be true — but his overwhelming emotion was bliss. He had done it.
Presently, confident enough to initiate his plans with the acorn, Scrat the squirrel released it from his protective embrace. Oh, how beautiful it was. He took a moment simply to stand back and admire the way the fading light gleamed on its shining surface, how superbly it rounded off into a precise tip, the pattern of the scales on the cupule, the way the stalk was bent in an imperfect yet ruggedly charming manner.
He sighed, clasping his paws together lovingly, and then set them back on the beloved nut. He inhaled its woody and pure scent; it was as crisp as the forests of heaven, as fresh as a thousand new beginnings, and he gently began to remove the cupule. The rough texture twisted under his paws, and he set it aside carefully to thank it for its service, for it had protected the acorn's greatest treasure for so long.
At last, he exposed the tender meat. His mouth watered and his heart beat faster. An involuntary moan escaped from his jaws; the sight before him was so tantalizing that he could no longer hold back.
With fervor, yet with reverence, his teeth met that elusive brown flesh. He took a piece of it into his mouth and savored this moment, the moment in which he had reached his life's goal. As much as he wanted no more than to tear into it with reckless abandon, he was painfully aware that this would not last forever; he had to drag it out as long as possible. Oh, he could dream a thousand fantasies and none of them would ever come close to the very real sensation of having the nut beneath him. Though he had imagined many times the taste of the acorn he had so faithfully sought, he had never thought that it could possibly be this exquisitely delectable.
Deeper still, he dug. As if he could not be close enough to it, he pressed his whole body into it as he swallowed the seed. He could not satiate this feeling, the texture of it in his mouth, the taste of it, the knowledge that it was his. Having made his way through the meat and to the hard outer casing, he swept his tongue across the inner shell in a broad, powerful stroke, one that ached of need.
Yet the meat was far from finished. His belly was pleasantly full, but he did not think that he could ever refuse the nut. Onwards he plunged; his initial feeding frenzy only whetting his appetite. He slowed his movements, every bite a treasured instant that would transform into one of his most cherished memories, each a highlight of his life.
His noises of pleasure only grew louder as he let his longing for the nut change from a basic need to an all-encompassingly luxurious experience. He broke off chunks of flesh and sucked them free of flavor before swallowing. He licked the meat still inside the shell without biting it off in order to better relish the taste. He dragged his body across it and reveled in the sensation of that brown meat against him.
His hunger was growing once more. He was still satisfyingly full, but he desired to ravage the nut. Oh, he had had enough with taking his time. He would make the nut his, and he took it inside of him again and again, until his cheeks were stuffed with the meat and his body was begging him to stop. At last, when the meat was gone, he crawled on all fours to sniff up the last crumbs, and he stroked the inner shells with his tongue. The hollow smelled faintly of the now-eaten foodstuff. The inside of his mouth still tasted of the acorn, and it sat as a heavy lump in his stomach.
In the morning, he knew he would not awake without purpose. There would be another elusive nut he could chase after for years, and now that he had done it once, he could do it again. There was nothing stopping him anymore. He would become the master of the nut.