Born to Hunt
by Lynn C.
The shadow leached across the rocky ground, here pouring itself into a depression in the soil, there stretching out over a wide expanse as though trying to touch something just out of reach. Behind the shadow crept a creature of more substance but equal stealth, lithe sinewy body flowing along with unnatural grace, predatory nature showing with each gleam of sharp teeth and narrowed eyes. The prey was so enticingly near, so delightfully unaware of the doom that was about to spring out and capture it with merciless fang and claw. Yellow eyes shone with glee, and the joy of the hunt became a tremble of anticipation along tensed muscles as they coiled for the final, deadly leap; the prey may have slipped away before, but this time there would be no escape. And then as though that thought had decided it the creature attacked, launching itself across the remaining distance in a soundless explosion of fluid, dangerous intent.
The preoccupied woman jumped when she felt something grab her foot, dropping the clothespins she was holding. Looking down, she released an exasperated sigh and then bent over and grabbed her attacker by the scruff of its neck, lifting it up so she could glare into its yellow eyes – which blinked back with the affront of wounded dignity. “Now just what is it that’s so fascinating about my shoelaces, you stupid cat?”
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