I see my memories fade with time
#14
Addison's diversionary tactic drove the bird into Geneva's waiting jaws. Her maw gaped open and then her pristine white teeth snapped shut like a trap. She could feel the life beat of the fowl fluttering against her waiting tongue; salty, coppery blood bathed her mouth and filled her throat. Swallowing compulsively, the the gray female ended the prey's life with a clean flexing of her jaws; its neck snapped and it went limp.

With a canine grin, Geneva approached Addison with her bloodied, befeathered offering. She shook the limp thing once, just for good measure. She felt a predatory sense of pride as the thing swung with a boneless motion. The life had definitely left this being. She laid the bloodied thing at Addison's feet, licking the coppery blood from her muzzle. It was not often that Geneva was so successful while hunting, and thus she was very proud of this accomplishment.

"I think that Grace will probably like this," Geneva said, savoring the taste of blood in her mouth. This was such a departure from her normal state. Usually, she was a quiet entity on the outskirts of living. Now, she was a participant in something that was a life and death situation, and the feeling was heady. Gentle though she may be, Geneva knew that after this small taste of predatory activity, she would not forget the vicious instincts that lay beneath.


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