Standing with my front paws nestled in a tangled patch of ivy, I roared, which I hardly ever do. Roaring is real y more of a tomcat kind of thing, but at that moment I could find no more appropriate expression for my outrage. And it felt damn good to be heard for once.
I glanced around, seeing the world in the dul greens and blues of my feline vision. Scattered throughout the undergrowth around me, the guys were stil in various stages of Shifting, unable to respond to my roar. I left them behind without a second thought. My anger was different than theirs and would have to be spent differently. And alone.
When I’d gone a few hundred feet, I heard Marc’s roar and knew it was meant for me. He was normal y the fastest of the tomcats, but with his limp, he would never catch me, and with my head start, neither would any of the others. Thinking of Sara and Abby, I ran as far and as fast as I could, not stopping even when my lungs heaved and my pulse raced.
With my thoughts on my missing friend and cousin, and on their unidentified kidnapper, the forest took on an entirely new feel. Every whisper of wind through the leaves sounded like someone hissing, “Sara.” Every bird tril ing above brought to mind Abby’s clear, ringing soprano. Each shadow held the threat of the unknown, where before they’d held only curiosity and adventure.
The sounds of the woods mocked my fright, turning my lifelong refuge into a waking nightmare in which every dry crack was a stranger’s footstep, and each new turn took me farther from everything safe and familiar. Dread and fear were ruining my run. I was handing over control of my emotions to some sadistic stray I’d already kicked around once, and that simply wouldn’t do. I had to get ahold of myself. Fast.
Bloodlust seemed to be the solution to distracting me from my fear.
Exhausted, I stopped to rest and to drink from the creek. Shiny fish scales flashed beneath the surface of the water, and though I was hungry, I barely glanced at them. I was aiming for something bigger, something I could chase, then rip apart before devouring.
I heard just the thing.
To the south, only a few yards away, a single twig cracked, accompanied by the rustle of leaves signaling the approach of something large. I froze, listening, my nose wiggling almost imperceptibly as I sniffed the air.
Deer. Two of them. A male and a female, based on their scents. I was upwind for the moment, and they obviously hadn’t smel ed me yet. A dense tangle of briars separated me from the deer, blocking us each from the other’s sight. They had no idea they were in danger. Perfect.
Adrenaline surged through me with the power of a hundred cups of coffee.
The chemical jolt of caffeine couldn’t compare to the natural high of the hunt. I looked up and around, searching for exactly the right branch. I found one with little trouble. It was low enough to jump onto without climbing, thick enough to hold my weight for at least half of its length, and close enough to others that I could effectively walk on a path of tree limbs until I was ready to pounce. Assuming the deer didn’t hear me and bolt.
I hunkered on my back legs, wiggling my hindquarters to find just the right position. My eyes focused on the low branch. I jumped. My front paws hit first, in silence, followed an instant later by my hind paws. I fought panic as my left hind leg slipped from the branch, threatening to upset my balance. I clenched the branch with my hind claws, freezing in place until I regained my equilibrium. Huffing in relief, I repositioned myself slightly for a better view. From my new height, I could see the deer in a smal clearing ahead: a light brown doe and her fawn, his back sprinkled with white spots.
For a moment, I felt a twinge of guilt over my intent to kil Bambi’s mother, but such was the way of life in the forest, and it didn’t bother me for long. Especial y when I saw the fawn tugging on a low leaf. If he was old enough to eat greens, he was at least partial y weaned and probably old enough to survive on his own.
Heart pounding, I tensed, getting my balance just right. I jumped up onto the next branch, pausing briefly to steady myself before taking the next leap. I approached my prey from behind as the wind carried her scent to me, like a preview of coming attractions. Ahead, the doe leaned down to nibble at a blade of grass, blissfully unaware of what the next few minutes would bring. Her ignorance excited me, bringing my breath in fast, quiet pants. Her life depended entirely on my whim, and I loved the feeling of power that knowledge brought. For the first time since I’d come home, I was in control, with no one to answer to and nothing to fear.
Anticipation surged through me. I leapt onto the next limb, then the next, and the next after that. I aimed for the thickest part next to the trunk to minimize the noise and the chance that I would shake loose a leaf to drop on the deer. Close enough, I crept silently out onto a sturdy limb, watching my prey from above. I was salivating, my heart beating fiercely. Its rhythm was accompanied by the rush of anger through my veins like a second pulse, feeding my heart as surely as my blood did.
The doe was below and to my left. I pounced, angling my fal so I would land on the mother’s hindquarters. As my paws left the branch, she froze, alerted to danger. She started to bolt, but it was too late; I was airborne and closing fast.
Claws unsheathed, I was ready to slash.
The impact knocked us both to the ground. I lunged forward to clamp my teeth on her throat, pinning her. Blood rushed into my mouth in spurts as her heart pumped her life into me until my teeth pinched her throat closed, suffocating her.
It was over in minutes. Standing, I shook the deer by the throat, just in case.
She was dead, and her fawn was gone. Good. I lapped at the blood stil dribbling from her neck, then ripped open her stomach with my claws and began to eat. As the carcass slowly cooled in the shadow of a broad red oak, I concentrated on the meal at hand, shoving my lingering bloodlust to the back of my mind. Surely it would be satisfied long before my stomach was.
I glanced around, seeing the world in the dul greens and blues of my feline vision. Scattered throughout the undergrowth around me, the guys were stil in various stages of Shifting, unable to respond to my roar. I left them behind without a second thought. My anger was different than theirs and would have to be spent differently. And alone.
When I’d gone a few hundred feet, I heard Marc’s roar and knew it was meant for me. He was normal y the fastest of the tomcats, but with his limp, he would never catch me, and with my head start, neither would any of the others. Thinking of Sara and Abby, I ran as far and as fast as I could, not stopping even when my lungs heaved and my pulse raced.
With my thoughts on my missing friend and cousin, and on their unidentified kidnapper, the forest took on an entirely new feel. Every whisper of wind through the leaves sounded like someone hissing, “Sara.” Every bird tril ing above brought to mind Abby’s clear, ringing soprano. Each shadow held the threat of the unknown, where before they’d held only curiosity and adventure.
The sounds of the woods mocked my fright, turning my lifelong refuge into a waking nightmare in which every dry crack was a stranger’s footstep, and each new turn took me farther from everything safe and familiar. Dread and fear were ruining my run. I was handing over control of my emotions to some sadistic stray I’d already kicked around once, and that simply wouldn’t do. I had to get ahold of myself. Fast.
Bloodlust seemed to be the solution to distracting me from my fear.
Exhausted, I stopped to rest and to drink from the creek. Shiny fish scales flashed beneath the surface of the water, and though I was hungry, I barely glanced at them. I was aiming for something bigger, something I could chase, then rip apart before devouring.
I heard just the thing.
To the south, only a few yards away, a single twig cracked, accompanied by the rustle of leaves signaling the approach of something large. I froze, listening, my nose wiggling almost imperceptibly as I sniffed the air.
Deer. Two of them. A male and a female, based on their scents. I was upwind for the moment, and they obviously hadn’t smel ed me yet. A dense tangle of briars separated me from the deer, blocking us each from the other’s sight. They had no idea they were in danger. Perfect.
Adrenaline surged through me with the power of a hundred cups of coffee.
The chemical jolt of caffeine couldn’t compare to the natural high of the hunt. I looked up and around, searching for exactly the right branch. I found one with little trouble. It was low enough to jump onto without climbing, thick enough to hold my weight for at least half of its length, and close enough to others that I could effectively walk on a path of tree limbs until I was ready to pounce. Assuming the deer didn’t hear me and bolt.
I hunkered on my back legs, wiggling my hindquarters to find just the right position. My eyes focused on the low branch. I jumped. My front paws hit first, in silence, followed an instant later by my hind paws. I fought panic as my left hind leg slipped from the branch, threatening to upset my balance. I clenched the branch with my hind claws, freezing in place until I regained my equilibrium. Huffing in relief, I repositioned myself slightly for a better view. From my new height, I could see the deer in a smal clearing ahead: a light brown doe and her fawn, his back sprinkled with white spots.
For a moment, I felt a twinge of guilt over my intent to kil Bambi’s mother, but such was the way of life in the forest, and it didn’t bother me for long. Especial y when I saw the fawn tugging on a low leaf. If he was old enough to eat greens, he was at least partial y weaned and probably old enough to survive on his own.
Heart pounding, I tensed, getting my balance just right. I jumped up onto the next branch, pausing briefly to steady myself before taking the next leap. I approached my prey from behind as the wind carried her scent to me, like a preview of coming attractions. Ahead, the doe leaned down to nibble at a blade of grass, blissfully unaware of what the next few minutes would bring. Her ignorance excited me, bringing my breath in fast, quiet pants. Her life depended entirely on my whim, and I loved the feeling of power that knowledge brought. For the first time since I’d come home, I was in control, with no one to answer to and nothing to fear.
Anticipation surged through me. I leapt onto the next limb, then the next, and the next after that. I aimed for the thickest part next to the trunk to minimize the noise and the chance that I would shake loose a leaf to drop on the deer. Close enough, I crept silently out onto a sturdy limb, watching my prey from above. I was salivating, my heart beating fiercely. Its rhythm was accompanied by the rush of anger through my veins like a second pulse, feeding my heart as surely as my blood did.
The doe was below and to my left. I pounced, angling my fal so I would land on the mother’s hindquarters. As my paws left the branch, she froze, alerted to danger. She started to bolt, but it was too late; I was airborne and closing fast.
Claws unsheathed, I was ready to slash.
The impact knocked us both to the ground. I lunged forward to clamp my teeth on her throat, pinning her. Blood rushed into my mouth in spurts as her heart pumped her life into me until my teeth pinched her throat closed, suffocating her.
It was over in minutes. Standing, I shook the deer by the throat, just in case.
She was dead, and her fawn was gone. Good. I lapped at the blood stil dribbling from her neck, then ripped open her stomach with my claws and began to eat. As the carcass slowly cooled in the shadow of a broad red oak, I concentrated on the meal at hand, shoving my lingering bloodlust to the back of my mind. Surely it would be satisfied long before my stomach was.
