here kitty, kitty come and tighten the leash ,

How 'bout a little discipline for the violent beast?

Warmth from the sun seeps deep into my silvery pelt, darker grey tips capturing the rays as they beam down from the sky and growing warm, booted legs and capped ears grow hot and my perfectly lined eyes shut against the brightness of the orb. I am taking a much deserved rest, my perch a low hanging branch from a rare magnolia tree that just so happened to be in leaping distance for my muscled frame. It also happened to catch the sun almost perfectly, as if made for my svelte form to be perched on it. My intense eyes shut to the world, and perched in a tree five feet off of the ground gave me a good listening exercise. Coal dipped tassel hangs in a relaxed way off of one side of the branch, its silvery and willowy plumage blowing softly in the breeze as I lounge after my long journey.

It is not long before the scent of prey hits my delicate black nose, grey strip crinkling as I yawn, hoisting my lithe frame on it's stilettos as I turn sharp eyes into the bushes and trees. Forehead crinkles as black watchtowers swivel forward and back, trying to pinpoint just where the scent wafted from, southeast, downwind and getting stronger, my eyes aim down. I abandon my post without a second thought, bailing gracefully to the forest floor onto a patch of nettles and springy moss, paws making a deep thud as I landed. I make sure the wind is still with me, that my fur is blown back and not fluffed, sniffing the air all the while. Bright, tri-colored eyes scan until I spot the velvet antlers of a yearling buck and I am quick to get out of eye shot. I hide my bright form in the deep cover of a thick bush, waiting for him to come passed me. Ambush is a way of survival for the lone wolf, after all, if we did not surprise our prey, we would never eat.

It is not long before he comes down the trail, browsing and scratching his way through the forest. Beneath the magnolia tree he goes, and I smile, watching as he grows nervous, smelling the scent of wolf. It is when he takes the path I took that my prey takes me by surprise, though a small tilt of the head is all the indication of the event. I wait, and when he comes toward the bush I am hiding in, I make my move. Leaping at his throat, the buck rears up and then tries to lower his head to get me with the prongs of his antlers, it is a bit too late for that though. I grasp his throat, and with a savage and beastly snarl and thrashing of my head, I have his windpipe within my jaws and a deer felled before he even knew what happened.

I smile, bloodstained fangs a grisly sight as I lay down to enjoy the buck in peace. Birds chirp and sing once more and all is still and calming in my new found paradise as I take lunch by the beautiful magnolia tree.

six years old; female; no: mate; no: soul; no: offspring; no: pack; 39in/165lbs ©