Keep moving.

Swifter than the light moving through the trees, She leaped from the fallen trunks that lay on the crowded Earth’s floor.

Rustling, leaves followed her, but were unable to keep up. She was faster than the wind!
Her grey cloak of fur moved along, slightly behind her as she moved.

Born to move. Born to kill. Born to live.

She stopped without tripping and stood dead still. She bowed her head to the creature that stood straight in front of her, as if her dinner was her king.

A strong stag, perfectly graceful, didn’t dare to move to breathe. His eyes were totally fixed on her’s, wondering if She would pounce now or later.

His antlers, growing toward the sun, made his crown. His silky coat, a robe of golden slivers. Noble and calm, he accepted his fate.

With the graceful arch of her leap, her teeth fell through his skin—adding a crimson streak against his golden coat. She praised the heavens and the prey for the life she took for her own.