"Everybody, with your fists raised
high!
Let me hear your battle cry tonight!
Stand beside, or
step aside;
We're on the frontline"
- Pillar "Frontline"
To the naked eye, there was nothing abnormal about the forest. Nocturnal animals were scurrying across the undergrowth, hiding from the elegant birds of prey circling lazily in the cloudless sky.
A squirrel was scampering across the thick boughs of his tree. He had spent the day gathering nuts, and had gone much farther than he had expected. Thus he was running home, trying to steer clear of the open spaces where the vigilant owl would spot him.
He was almost back to his hole; he had started to recognize the familiar marks in the bark of his tree, the gnarled stump of where a branch had once grown. Jumping quicker now, he climbed the trunk, making his way to the middle of the tree. There was the thickest branch, and right next to it, his hideout.
But when he reached his branch, he froze.
There was something - large, black and silent – perched on the branch. The top of It moved slightly, letting moonlight glint against something the squirrel knew to be eyes.
Eyes of a predator.
Terrified, he froze, hoping to blend in with the bark. The thing knew he was there; It looked at him for a couple seconds before turning its head forward. He realized that It was looking for a different prey, scanning the trees in front of It with only the night air and a squirrel knowing it was there.
Silently, as to not disturb It, the squirrel entered his hole and curled into a protective ball. It had scared him, but it had also made him curious.
A few moments later he battled and lost to the urge to poke his little head out to see It again.
It was still there, though it took him a few moments to figure out where. It had not changed position at all, still crouched on the branch, black against the starry sky.
It had found its prey though. Its eyes were locked forward, following the slow and silent movement of something on the forest floor.
Then it moved.
Slowly It pulled a white face, and attached it to It's own face. The moonlight shone across its bright surface, hiding Its eyes from the squirrel. It reached back into the pouch from which the face had come, and came back out with cold, gleaming claws linked between Its fingers.
Then It leaped off the branch, diving down into the forest like a bird of prey diving for his next meal.
The next morning, the air held the metallic smell of death. Poking his head back out, the squirrel crawled along the branch, seeing the wet sheen of blood splattered a couple trees over.
Continuing along the branch to get a better view of Its kill, the squirrel walked straight into a nut.
Sniffing carefully, he deemed it comestible, even thought it smelt slightly metallic.
AN--
Does anyone like this? I'm not too sure how the perspective will come through to people who don't exactly know all of the subtleties and backing for this. Like it, understood it, confused? REVIEW!!
And can anyone guess who 'It' is?