He crouched in the centre of the glade, senses questing outwards. Sunlight sliced though the slowly undulating canopy above his head, and the gentle sighing of autumn's wind sent leaves tumbling gracefully down to the ground. Dust motes glinted in the sunlight, and a gently bubbling stream completed the glade to an almost fictional perfection. Despite the beauty of his surroundings, his attention did not linger on them; his prey was near, and the hunt was all that mattered.
Ignore the cooling air. Ignore the purity of the water. Ignore yourself. Be still. Focus.
The playful lilt of a blackbird's song broke the still air, drawing him out of his reverie. As his attention sharpened, he picked up the soft scuff of a hare's feet through the dry leaves. His head slowly swivelled to the source of the noise as his prey padded into view. Poised and taut, he waited, knowing there would only be one chance to strike.
The hare didn't notice the motionless human, but was s