She crouched, her eyes watching his every move, blocking out all unnecessary distractions. He, unaware of the hunteress in his wake, was immersed in enjoying the dewy grass of the morning. She watched and waited, soon, she knew, he would come closer. The patience of her race calmed her blood, eased her heart into an easy rhythm. She was a huntress, born to prey. He was young, and full of the life she so desparately craved. And it was time.
He wandered closer, chasing a butterfly that had the audacity to fly into his face. She slowly eased into position, ready to pounce, ready to take down the offensive creature. He bounded closer and closer. Now.
In one fluid motion she was on him, pinning down his pointless limbs. He was startled, but the shock wore off soon and the instinct to survive arose. She wrestled him down with difficulty. Oh how she hated this form. Just as she leaned in for the kill, she heard her name being called. A mumbled curse and she let her prey go. It was not time for her to have them. For one, she was yet to determine if they were indeed of her kind. “Once that was decided…” the smile that appeared on her sleek face was as beautiful, as it was cruel.