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Kevin G Hare

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Tall Tale

Master of the jungle, queen of her domain, she stalks an unwary prey. Her steps are light, her paws are but whispers in the grass. Her breathing is controlled and her eyes are focused, two amber crystals in a field of green.

The wind speaks, blowing a soft lullaby around her, threatening to give away her presence. She holds, her gaze never shifting from her prize while the song of the breeze exhausts its breath. Her foe is fierce, dangerous beyond reason. She must be smarter, her stealth greater and her timing perfect.

She closes the distance. She stops in mid-step to smell the air; her position is not compromised. Another step. Her hind end bunches, building in tension. In a flurry of orange she pounces and lands full force on her victim. She bites and claws, she rolls in desperate struggle to overpower her opponent but it springs free and tries to wrap itself around her to hold her at bay.

The contest is brief and she is victorious in the end. She sits grooming herself beside her beaten enemy, proud that such a simple ball of string did not escape the daring imagination of the young kitten.