|  Author | Topic: The hunter... stalks the hunted... (Read 113 times) |
Promise Broken
Keeper-Upper
The Keeper Upper
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Joined: Dec 2005
Posts: 44
Location: USA
Karma: 1 |  | The hunter... stalks the hunted...
« Thread Started on Dec 7, 2005, 11:54pm » | ![[Quote]](http://s4.images.proboards.com/buttons/quote.gif) |
Adrenaline pumped through the black leopard's blood as his bounding paces halted and his belly sunk low to the earth. His jaws parted, as his tongue slid out slightly. Catching his breath he hid within the shadow of a large oak. Its branches weaving out to tangle with the other boughs of neighboring trees.
He looked about anxiously as he caught his breath. The sounds of the forest was quiet, and silent except for the chatter of the birds within the branches above. And yet there was something else...
There! The sound of a single breath, a sharp intake of air. Had he been noticed? Shacklon, grew suddenly still and gathered his breath within his lungs. Motionless, he was immobile and invisible. And yet silence resumed. that tension filling the air that comes when preditor has found prey, and prey know's its been targetted. Yet neither made any motion, this stalemate gathering and growing with each passing second. For neither was sure of the other. Shacklon had yet to see his quarry, and had yet to be assured it was edible prey, and reasonable for a kill. The prey on the otherhand, had been assured it heard something, but now all was quiet. It did not know whether to continue on and ignore the warning that blared within its mind, or flee for fear of its very life. Of course the favor was in Shacklon's - for he did not have his very life upon the line. For he was not starving and game was not scarce. He could easily find new prey.
Tired of the stalemate, he flicked his tail, shifting the leaves behind him. This caused the desired reaction. Prey's worst fears acknowledged... it bounded, fleeing. Noise weaving a trail behind it. And yet shacklon was none the slower. Pouncing from his rest he sprang up just in time to catch site of a young buck racing aronnd the bend of a thicket. Pulsing forward, Shacklon fought to close teh gab. His eyes carefully pinned on both victim and footing. Fleeing from knarled roots, and dangerous mounds of soft soil. He plummeted onwards, sometimes gaining, sometimes losing. The flight of the hunt, now hot and anxious. It was a matter of life now... who would live, who would go hungry.
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And upon the cold grey stone, that marked the grave, it read:
As you standing there are...
... I once was.
As I am lying here now...
... you one day will be.
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~*Kalli*~
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Joined: Jan 2006
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Karma: 0 | | Re: The hunter... stalks the hunted...
« Reply #1 on Jan 29, 2006, 6:40pm » | |
The female sat crouched in a tree nearby, unseen, and unheard. Her black tail twitched with anxiety. Her black pelt twitched, making a ripple along it, caused from the tail twitch. Her ear flicked back, catching a distant sound. She raised her head curiously to the sound, her movements liquid, and silent. Her sharp eyes caught a distant movement in the brush. She looked harder, and found it. A black leopard in a hunt. She grinned, a good sized buck. She gaged the distance between her and the pair. The female had a sudden burst of stored energy. She kept it unseen though, she still lay there, unmoving. She watched the leopard and the buck come nearer, and nearer. When the deer was not quite under her, she jumped, and dived on the deer, hitting her mark perfectly. She made the deer stumble, and they tumbled over the soft vegetation , and snapped the buck's neck, killing it quickly. She stood over her catch, looking at the approaching male. . .
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