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Posted on January 19, 2017 at 10:19:37 AM by Sasha
She stood frozen like a statue, her black-tipped belly lowered so that it brushed the earth beneath her. She crouched low, hidden away among the foliage of a thicket, her long, lean legs itching to lurch forward. She’d learned that when hunting on her own, it was necessary to conceal her bright, auburn pelt. Otherwise, between her size and coloration, the smaller game seemed to see her coming a mile away. At least it was spring now, where life for the lone wolf generally grew easier. The scarcity of prey aside, winter was the worst time to hunt when your body was an illustrious red. But spring was plentiful, or at least that’s what she told her aching muscles. The she-wolf was a stranger in this land, having traveled many miles from the northeast place of her birth. What had possessed her to go south was beyond her, and the whole affair had been rather uncharacteristic. She was a creature of practicality, and it went against all sensibilities to travel to some unknown destination without companionship. But compelled to go she had felt nevertheless. Most days she resented herself for it, but apparently, wherever she was, it had captured the rapture of many of her kin, the land being well-settled, the scent and sounds of her kind palpable if faint at times. She’d stayed on the borders of the region since her arrival, scouting out places where small prey seemed to inhabit. She’d stumbled on the rabbit burrow a few days prior and had remained at hand every since. Bunnies were quick but filling and with spring in the air, there was no end to the abundance of them. A new one popped up for every one she dispatched. Her mossy green eyes, rimmed like a raccoon by the ebony fur that weaved itself in through parts of her coat, were transfixed on the hole narrowly carved out at the base a tall tree, waiting for one of the tiny, delicious morsels to peek their head out so she could promptly swipe it off. She listened quietly to her breathing, keeping it steady and in check. Her oversized ears were perked, carefully monitoring the air, keeping her upwind. At last, two long, fluffy ears appeared in the entrance to the burrow followed by a twitching nose. Slowly but surely, a fat, brown rabbit emerged, one cautious, little hop at the time. A sensation gripped Sasha’s stomach so fiercely, which she forced herself to ignore, willing the query to come closer and closer. Closer and closer. Almost there, almost there. She tensed, ready to make her move with a powerful leap. When a twig snapped somewhere behind her. Both she and the rabbit froze for a moment in surprise at the interruption. But it was only a second, then the rabbit was darting back to the security of its home. Sasha sprang forward, easily covering the distance between herself and the den, but the bunny slipped inside, narrowly avoiding the clench of her jaws. Sasha suppressed the urge to snarl, angered at the loss of her meal. But she composed herself promptly, straightening herself despite the protest of her joints after spending the last hour hunched in a bush. Her colorful tail of black, white, and red rose proudly as she turned herself to investigate what had made the noise, her face blank and unemotional.  |
Replies:
- FEAR IS THE MOTHER OF MORALITY - By NIETZSCHE January 20, 2017 at 07:07:21 AM
every heart has its own skeletons. - By Sasha January 20, 2017 at 09:16:23 AM
FEAR IS THE MOTHER OF MORALITY - By NIETZSCHE January 23, 2017 at 09:22:09 PM
every heart has its own skeletons. - By Sasha January 28, 2017 at 08:00:22 AM
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