Twilit Days
A Zelda: Twilight Princess collection
Disclaimer: I don't own TP (except a copy of it), and I don't own Zelda.
Chapter Eleven: Hunt
'Call of the wild – the appeal of nature in the raw.'
Moon-shadows danced cold and brilliant through the dappled leaves of trees swaying above, dyeing the forest floor a silver portrait. Darkness, solid and fluid, stole over the fallen leaves with an eerie whisper; a puff of breath, a low grumbling from deep within the strong chest of the creature.
Ears laid back, a paw stretched out into infinity across a small pool of white light, through, and into gloom once more. Anticipation played up to a key as a whiff or air, two, brought forth the unmistakable aroma of a rabbit.
Prey. Prey, and he, the hunter—the predator.
Panting, the nubile form of the wolf slunk through flora and shadow, slipping past fallen limbs and drifting leaves to come upon a small den. He could make out the quiet breathing of the prey slumbering within; a shallow pit or earth separating him from his meal.
Muscles tense, he waited a moment; several; and then, after a long expanse frozen in the cool moonlight sifting breezily through the treetops above he plunged his teeth into the ground, ripping and tearing with fang and claw. A shrieking squeal brought the rabbit awake with frightening clarity, and it struggled to escape as its home collapsed around it. It wriggled and worked its way up, up, plowing through clods of dirt with an inborn desperation. Nearing the rim of its den, claws grazing its fluffy back, it rears for safety in the underbrush nearby---
Too late. With a snap and a cry the rabbit lay dead and cooling in the wolf's jaws. A triumphant gleam came forth from golden eyes, and with nonchalance he stalked back towards his kingdom, the solitary hunter back with the kill.
Soon firelight spilled from between the oaks, and with excitement he bound forward, crashing through the bushes with scrambling paws. The imp that lay prostrate and grumbling by the flames leapt up with a squawk of surprise, and a snarl of anger.
"What was that?! Are you trying to kill me, you half-brained fleabag?! Just—"
Stopping short, she stared unabashedly at the prize clamped between slavering fangs. With pride he pranced forward and dropped it at her feet, powerful chest puffing out and tongue lolling with self-satisfaction; clearly expecting praise.
The imp bent at the knees and gingerly hauled the dead rabbit up between tentative fingers; a face pulled at the stench of death already rolling from the bloody fur. She gagged.
"Ew."
A/N: Gasp! Could it be true? Has she actually managed to write something! Impossible!
Yes, yes, I know. Believe me, I know. And I can't even begin to describe the joy I felt when out of the blue I was gripped with the need to write something. I literally started crying from relief. My writer's block is starting to fall away, and I don't think I've ever been this happy. Hopefully I can continue steady writing sometime soon. No promises, though…