(I'm here!
And you're both gone
)
The sunlight filtered through the oak leaves, shedding light in dapples that lingered on the forest floor. Below the miniature spotlights, the dark tabby shuffled through the undergrowth, tracking a scent. Every few seconds she paused, bending her head to sniff the ground and breath in the beautiful scent before continuing. It was a gamey, tender, light.
Bird.
Suddenly Lostcry froze, one paw held limply in the air as her green eyes peered through the fern leaves decorating her path. Her lip curled into a smile. There it was. The little bird was perched on a small log, its talons leaving small scraps on the rotting wood. A small, quavering feather stood straight atop its head, a beacon of danger.
Silently, skillfully, Lostcry began to edge around the clearing, keeping to the ferns. Yet her eyes never wavered from her prey, oblivious to her presence. Finally, satisfied with her position, she stopped, muscles tensed, legs underneath her body, power flowing through her very veins.
Suddenly, she pounced.
The bird was no more. With one deft bite, Lostcry found herself crouched over the dead quail, delicious in both its look and aroma. For a moment she bowed her head, giving thanks for the life of the bird that was to feed her clan, cradled it in her jaws, and bounded back to camp.
It had been a successful hunt.