The Gift
The tigress rises, smooth, without thought. She knows the pattern signal. Dispatch razor sharp claws flying, and feel the blood. A telling yelp emerges up the steep cliffs. The signal of 'they had hit their mark.' A dialogue that convinced with no apology.The pure passionate urge to kill. An honest rendering of the laws of this jungle. She had sensed movement in the corner of her eye. The manifestation of a device designed by evolution, the edge detector. Her head turn was instant. First nothing, then a ghost shadow. Her figure moves once again with grace, the gift given her by nature.
No comments:
Post a Comment