Post by Plot on Jul 21, 2010 20:46:10 GMT -5
A glint of light over eyes filtered through the dusky darkness that falls right after sunset. Another glint, and another joined the first –several pairs of hungry eyes lured in by the promise of easy kills. Ahead, lay the fourfooted meat by the lot, contentedly grazing on the hardy island grass and completely unaware that they were the prey. The twolegs were gone now, further away than they'd been all night. Their scent was mixed with that of the large winged hunters, and it would be prudent to avoid them unless completely necessary.
A brownish clawed foot stepped lightly over a betraying twig, but another small noise from behind had the closest fourfoots glancing upwards in alarm. The hunters froze their forward movement and waited in silence for their prey to relax again. They were patient, ever so patient, and the fourfoots, ears twitching, finally did return to grazing. Another long moment did they wait for the meat to settle before stealthily moving forward again. They were as silent as a breeze and as quick over the ground.
Suddenly, three of the fourfoots dropped in their tracks, lowing urgently in confusion as a dark shadow swooped overhead. That was the signal, and the hunters all sprang from their hiding spots in a riot of silent movement. A few converged on each of the downed animals, silencing them quickly with strong jaws as they finished the kill with efficiency.
Splashes of blood hit the ground from the many rending tears as the hunters drew their prey back with them to the shelter of the jungle, some helping, others guarding. The rest of the fourfoots began kicking up in terror, rushing to the other side of the enclosed field and making quite a ruckus. The hunters ignored them, focused on their catch. Even the twolegs couldn't reach them now.
They withdrew far enough into the shadows to enjoy their well earned repast, feasting in an oddly silent manner without the ruckus of fighting and quarrels over the choicest pieces. The meat was finished quickly and the three carcasses, now stripped of all the best flesh, were left behind as the hunters faded into the darkness, the scent of the much larger winged hunters driving them back into the jungle they’d come from. The eyes disappeared slowly until only two pairs were left to watch, and to learn. This place was good, it had good meat. The larger winged hunters and their twoleg pets were a curiosity, despite their size and dominance. They weren’t prey, but they were standing between the hunters and good meat.
A keen intelligence watched the Weyr’s feeding pens. They would sneak in, they would kill, and they would eat. It was their way, and they had young to feed.
A brownish clawed foot stepped lightly over a betraying twig, but another small noise from behind had the closest fourfoots glancing upwards in alarm. The hunters froze their forward movement and waited in silence for their prey to relax again. They were patient, ever so patient, and the fourfoots, ears twitching, finally did return to grazing. Another long moment did they wait for the meat to settle before stealthily moving forward again. They were as silent as a breeze and as quick over the ground.
Suddenly, three of the fourfoots dropped in their tracks, lowing urgently in confusion as a dark shadow swooped overhead. That was the signal, and the hunters all sprang from their hiding spots in a riot of silent movement. A few converged on each of the downed animals, silencing them quickly with strong jaws as they finished the kill with efficiency.
Splashes of blood hit the ground from the many rending tears as the hunters drew their prey back with them to the shelter of the jungle, some helping, others guarding. The rest of the fourfoots began kicking up in terror, rushing to the other side of the enclosed field and making quite a ruckus. The hunters ignored them, focused on their catch. Even the twolegs couldn't reach them now.
They withdrew far enough into the shadows to enjoy their well earned repast, feasting in an oddly silent manner without the ruckus of fighting and quarrels over the choicest pieces. The meat was finished quickly and the three carcasses, now stripped of all the best flesh, were left behind as the hunters faded into the darkness, the scent of the much larger winged hunters driving them back into the jungle they’d come from. The eyes disappeared slowly until only two pairs were left to watch, and to learn. This place was good, it had good meat. The larger winged hunters and their twoleg pets were a curiosity, despite their size and dominance. They weren’t prey, but they were standing between the hunters and good meat.
A keen intelligence watched the Weyr’s feeding pens. They would sneak in, they would kill, and they would eat. It was their way, and they had young to feed.