Prowl
By Rachel V T
Published 13 June 2023
Pawsteps crunch through snow,
Pink nose twitching, shaking.
Tail-tip flicking behing white legs,
Yelow eyes pierce through the glaze.
Finally, the scent of a hare,
Under one of the frostbitten trees.
One of those that hadn't been cut down,
It was a plant to cherish.
Pawsteps gone lighter,
Body closer to the ground.
As it prowls towards the fur of the hare,
claws sliding out of strong paws.
It leaps,
Ears pushed back, eyes slitted against the snow.
Gunshot.
The sky erupts in a flurry of feathers — the hare is nowhere to be seen.
The leopard drops to the ground, eyes closing for the last time,
Staining the snow red, fur lying limp across a cold body.
Laughter and footsteps approach the leopard.
It's not the only deadly predator out there.