01-21-2008, 08:19 AM
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| This particular style of hunting was a time-honoured classic. Tamerlane remained still and poised, grey-black eyes planted on the images he could see — a blink of a hoof, a blur of brown. When Phoenix leapt, the deer headed — as planned — in the Jager's direction. The sturdy Alpha slashed at the haunch of the target creature, but still it ran; the possibility that it would struggle from his grasp was ever present, but the doe was oblivious to the oncoming inevitability. With a smooth flash of muscle and sinew, Tamerlane's paws dashed the ground and his jaws closed over a scrawny neck until bucking turned to struggling. Struggling turned to writhing. Writhing turned to twitching. And twitching turned to stillness. |