| Private, Melisande The Dampwoods  Long ears erect, a hare stopped in its search for food. The little leveret, muscular and strong, sensed that it was no longer alone in the area. Face snaps focused to watch the direction of the nearly inaudible sound it had heard, body tense, ready to jump. Mew had been watching the little one for a while, hoping to get the young hare for dinner. Though young, it was far from weak or slow. Maybe she should chose a different prey; the female didn't quite feel like chasing this one for a while at the moment. However, it was worth a try. The hare relaxes, though slowly, and seems to be preoccupied with its food again. Gathering her hind legs under her, Mew prepares to spring at it. Breath in, and a jump. No snarl or exclamation, but the hare was not as preoccupied as she had thought. It must have smelled her. Instantly it runs out of her way, easily jumping along, with Mew after it. For a split second Mew regretted that she couldn't shift to her fastest form, but no longer, before she gave all her attention on catching the little hare. One would think that it should be an easy match for a big wolf, but the little bastard was agile and jumpy, darting in unexpected directions, wildly, and Mew was a lot heavier. However, she was faster, normally though. Today, and lately, was another matter. Roots and twigs flew by the image of the fleeing hare in front of her, and sadly she admitted failure. It was gaining on her. She gave it one more chance, while the distance was not too big, and jumped at it. Paws found fur for a little moment; she had caught and pinned one hind leg down. Quickly she put more pressure to it, to stop it from escaping, but the damn thing had too much speed ahead already, and it was too tiny. Mew watched her planned meal go as the little one wiggled out of her grasp and fled amongst the roots and vegetation. Bitch! She was panting, not exhausted, but merely with the rush of the hunt and with anger. Stupid hare. Back to rabbits and other smaller, easier things, she supposed. If only she could shift and make herself some traps. On that thought she was reminded of her guitar, and how she longed to hold and play it again. In this form all she could do with it was to just look at it while it was patiently waiting for her. She looked down onto her paws again, snorting at them, before turning back to head to her den. Rabbits.. It had been ages since she had tasted something else than petty rodents. |
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