05-04-2010, 06:44 PM
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(300) Like a shadow, he crept though the grass mainly unseen, keeping his small body low to the ground and his senses alert. Something ahead had drawn his attention and slowly, painstakingly he moved into position, heading for the kill. The rabbit moved. He burst into action, becoming a lightning fast blur of silvery fur and snapping jaws that laid deadly fangs deep into the rabbit’s flesh. Blood stained his muzzle, and with a quick jerk of his head the rabbit’s neck was broken. He was a small hunter—even smaller due to his age and breed, but he would grow to be about average size for his father’s species, who had been large enough in his own right. The murder had been for practice, not sustenance, but his mother had raised him in a place where food could go decidedly scarce at times, thus he’d been taught not to waste good flesh when he had it within his jaws. The rabbit dangling from his jaws, he sought a rocky outcropping that the sun had warmed as best as it could in these chilly conditions. The dead carcass was carefully lain across the rock at his side as he stretched out on a smooth surface to sunbathe. Always, his posture was carefully refined, with his head held high and his ears alert for danger or company. His flank was pressed against the stone with his forelegs out before him and his hind legs stretched out to the side. He desired warmth, though his coat did the trick in keeping out the cold. He despised this weather, but short of becoming a god and changing the season there wasn’t much that he could do about it. So he soaked up the sun and reflected on recent events. |