The little green critter scurries across a frond of grass. Its every step speaks of hesitance, as though it is afraid of what may come. Perils lie on every inch of the forest, and the grasshopper seems to know this. However, even though it's frightened, it seems to maintain a certain composure that exudes a falsified aura of calmness. It scampers onto the next branch, and the next, before it finally disappears into the trees, finding sanctuary away from the watchful eyes of its predator. Yet- too late!- it is quickly snatched up by a descending hawk. Its bones and organs are crumbled to pieces as it collapses between the powerful jaws of the enemy.