Hunted

Silent paws creep silently across the freezing grass. The icy scent in the air is the only guide that the starving creature has. A warm creature is nearby, ready to be eaten. The stalking creature knows the danger, but desperation overules it. Closer to the source of the scent, stomach tight and twisted. Lips begin to draw back in a silent snarl, revealing a row of white teeth. The prey is very near. The hunter can see it now.
A young girl shivers in the cold of the night. She wishes to finish her chores quickly, so she can go back inside and sit by the blazing fire. Impatiently, she waits for the lazy chickens to go inside their coop, so she can lock them in. While no chickens had been killed by wild animals for years now, it was still a slight threat. Clucking at the plump, silly creatures, she began to herd them, feeling colder by the second. Above her, the full moon rose higher in the frozen air.
The scent of warm blood was now floating towards the hunter. It took all he had to not rush out there and then. But he had to wait, had to be a little bit closer before charging. The frail looking prey would come down easily and would make a great meal.
Locking up the coop, the girl turned around, but then froze. She had seen something, a swift movment, a glimmer of eyes, hidden in the bushes. She stared intently into the bushes, waiting for the creature to appear.
Appear the hunter did. He leapt out of the bushes and hurtled towards the girl. Hunger now led him completely and he gave no thought as to what he did. All he knew was that the girl was prey and would soon be eaten. He leapt at her throat, teeth ready.
The girl didn't scream. But all of a sudden, the girl wasn't there anymore. Instead, a large wildcat stood there. Without a moment's hesitation, the cat attacked the wolf, tearing with both teeth and claws. The surprised wolf never stood a chance and within seconds, his worries were forever over.
The girl stood, gazing over the ripped apart remains of the wolf. She looked back at the chicken coop, where the chickens were all panicking at the sound of the fight.
"You're safe for now, you silly things. Be quiet." She said to them, and then, after wiping her hands free of blood on the the cold grass, she turned and walked away from the body of the wolf.

First Blood

A scent in the air,
a shiver across fur.
Closer to the target,
metallic taste in mouth.
Creeping slowly, eyes glinting.
Calm, peaceful scene,
soon to be changed.
Gentle breeze, hint of dark.
Roaming, unaware,
innocent life, innocent hunger.
Closer still to the target.
A slight stumble over stone,
sudden awareness, panic.
Let loose, bursting forward,
energy unleashed.
No time to run,
eyes grow dark.
Eyes gleam with success,
and the taste of first blood.

Animalspeak #4-Wolf

Why do you always pick on that one wolf?
He is the lowest of the pack.
But why?
Because he is.
Is it because of something he did? What marks him as differant?
The pack does not want weaklings. Weaklings must be kept in their place.
I feel sorry for him though. His entire life, he spends trying to fit in with the pack, yet his efforts seem to be futile.
Is it not so with your people as well?
I suppose you are right. Why, even children, at early ages, will poick out a weaker one and shun him. Maybe because of appearance, or disability. But there often doesn't seem to be a reason...
Survival of the fittest, I say.
Hmm.

Hunt

Watching silently, dark eyes glittering. Woefully, hidden in the underbrush. Muscles bunched up, tenses but frozen stiff. Ears pricked for any change. Through the dark branches and ferns, eyes glowing like cold stars. Lips part a little, revealing white gleaming rows.
Inhaling deeply, so many scents to sort through. The wet smell of recent rain clings to damp earth. The ferns, as they dry out, emit a musky smell. A log rots and slowly compresses, bit by rotting bit.
There you are.
The scent is brought in long before the glowing eyes see. A distinct smell, sharp, clear and unique. Comfortable and safe, in a way. Feelings arise and mix, churning like an angry windstorm.
Blink.
The eyes see you now, but you don't see them. Yet you feel something, don't you. Something is out there and you think you know that.
Fear enters the cold, still air. Its' taste is sharp and bitter...and also rewarding. The battle is half won by now.
Inching closer ever so slightly, the air as silent as a long forgotten tomb. The air is heavy and full of promise, of potential. A slight chill is shrugged off as you look around.
You tense. You saw something. Your heart, which can be heard from miles around, beats rapidly, pulsing strongly. The vein in your neck runs with life, taunting.
I'm sorry.
A burst of energy, bounding forward and towards you. You have no time to run.
Because I've killed you.