In the dark, he stalks his prey. The grass is dewy, wet beneath his feet. The small animal moves slowly, cautiously, watching for danger. He watches too, waiting for it to drop its guard; then he will strike. It is a quiet night, and the wind is still. He is in good spirits, as he does not have to worry about the wind drifting his smell towards the small creature. He can circle around, and pounce from any angle. He salivates at the thought of the feast he will soon dine on.
The little creature continues to move slowly, searching for a meal of its own. He moves with it, never breaking his line of sight. If he looks away for even one second, it could be gone. It is too late to find another meal; he needs this one.
The tiny creature reaches a small stream. This could be it. The little thing takes a drink, a perfect opportunity. He creeps forward, swiftly but silently, almost within pouncing distance.
Snap.
A twig. How could he be so careless, so foolish. The creature darts his head up, staring directly at him, making eye contact. He speeds off into the forest. He can do this, he knows this forest better than anyone. He dashes right after it, only a few steps behind. As the creature twists and turns through the trees, under logs, over creeks, he follows each movement. He is sure the creature does not know where it is going; it is acting on pure instinct. If it knew, it wouldn’t be heading towards the rocks. There is no escape from the rocks, not for something that small. He grins slightly, knowing now that he is in for a well-deserved meal.
Just as he guessed, the creature darts into a gap between the rocks; he squeezes through, right behind. He barely fits; the creature surely thought he would not be able to make it at all. The creature jumps and claws in the rocky dead-end, not yet realizing its effort is futile. It stops, and stares right at him. He can see the fear in its eyes, and slowly moves toward it.
With his belly full, he casually walks through the forest. Home is but minutes away, and it is almost dawn. The rising sun makes the dew on the grass sparkle as he walks through the forest, and he can hear the birds just waking up. He enters his yard; it is cluttered with playground equipment and scattered toys, something he would usually find quite annoying, but not this morning. He is in a good mood. Right as he sits down on the hammock, the back door bursts open.
“Farley, where have you been? I have been up all night, worried sick about you! Now, come inside, I will make you some breakfast.”
Foolish woman.
