p; Anselm, the Waste
Her paw fell with careful positioning, slowing moving downward onto the ground between the tall strands. They tickled her belly and itched the bottoms of her paws. Concentration was written across her brow and silence was the one word that continuously circled her brain. With the wind in front of her and the tall grass to hide her, she was the only thing that could ruin the moment.
Her black nose rose between the blades of grass, her body low attempting to use the sea of grass to cover any view of her body. She took in the scent of the group of deer, quickening the pace of her heart and making her mouth water in anticipation. When her stomach was on the line Anu was pure business. Another step, eyes still watching for a change in their movement. An ear swiveled, and black eye blinked, but there was still no break in their relaxed posture.
She was close, so close that if she wanted it would only take three long leaps to touch the nearest doe. Her excitement rose, teetering over the edge. Regaining control Anu kept her position and prepared for one last slow step. Paw up, she leaned forward with a fluid grace setting the light tan painted paw to the ground. Until that moment Anu had been able to avoid all of the jagged stones that littered the vile land. But, even with her persistence she let herself get lost in hunger and ignored her footing.
The cry was no more then a small and almost silent whimper, but already having stalked so closely it was impossible for the female deer not to hear her. The last pace had been the final single step and the first of her sprint. Pushing far again the sharp stone she was unable to keep her concentration and watched with growing anger as the deer loped off into the vast distance. Her small size would have not been able to bring even the smallest of them to the ground without some sort of miracle anyway. Anu turned her back to the disappearing meal with resentment and settled to examine her injury.
Cursing she looked to find only a small cut across the side of her paw. The blood would stop soon, and she would hardly have a limp. The small injury could never compare to the loss of the meal, and she felt foolish from not running through the pain after the doe, she hadn’t even tried. |
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