The King In Stripes

The breeze.

The breeze is the only source of sound around me. The scent of the grass, the softness of the mud and the gentle playing of the breeze upon my face are  the only things I sense other than the silent thuds of the busy hooves in front of me.

The buck hardly notices a quiet figure, crouched low amongst the clump of swaying, tall bushes. I tense my muscles, straighten my tail, put my ears behind and unsheath the swords in my paws so silently, that I myself cannot hear it.  I again take this oppurtunity to thank mother nature for the gift of sleekness and silence she has presented me with.

I crouch my legs and say a quick prayer for the poor prey in front of me.

Then I did what my late dad taught me to do all those young, memory filled years of my life.

The leap.

With one large leap I was straight on the back of the startled buck who, with my weight tumbled over.  He quickly recovered and kicked me so hard I almost thought I would fall of his back. I quickly inserted my claws into his neck and opened my mouth wide and sank my teeth into his flesh deep enough to puncture his jugular vein. He went limp and tumbled to the ground.

” The king in stripes”, I thought, ” strikes again”.

Edwin Joseph.

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