Windsong yawned, stretching her long slender body, swishing her tail in the air. She licked the blood of a mouse off her lips, the only product of a three-hour-long hunt, and rolled around once happily in the snow. Bored yet elated, she padded back into the woods, basking in the weak winter sun. A band of hawks circled above, letting out horrible screeching noises as they searched for prey, and Windsong watched as the swooped down one by one and came back with small bloody things in their claws. She shuddered, glad she wasn't a small furry critter.
Watching, she started to feel sleepy, and resting her head on her paws, she decided to take a nap. Then, suddenly jolting out of her sweet dream of running with the wind, pursuing a herd of deer, she felt something slinking into the forest behind her. Standing up, she suddenly spun around, and got ready to bolt.
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