The White Beast

When I was in late elementary school, I read some scifi book about an alien called the Round Beast, a hyper intelligent being. In my imagination, I fashioned a similar monster called the White Beast. It was a carnivore that hunted you at night, peering out from the tree line as you drove your car through the darkness. You'd always chalk up seeing it on the edge of your vision to tricks of light. But it would be there, prowling the night. 

In these almost Jurassic landscapes in the Drakensberg, I can picture the White Beast standing atop ridges, studying its prey and then padding off with leonine leisure. 

How at home it would be surveying the V-valley of its dominion.