The Raptor Never Sleeps

She stalks her prey through the blades of grass, crouching low, holding still. Her prey is unaware of the danger between the green.

She doesn’t dare growl. Doesn’t dare move. Her prey is quick and strong. His nose twitches as he sniffs the ground, his tail flicking behind him. He surely can’t see her now, not when the light is dim and the bugs are out.

He should have been returning to his place. Where it’s safe. But instead, he has lingered in the tall grass, and she follows every small step.

She wonders how long it will take for the right moment to strike. Will it be when the moon is finally high? Or when the sky is dark? It doesn’t matter, though. The Raptor never sleeps. She only stalks.

Her prey lifts his head. She stills. Can he see her in the grass? She hopes the camouflage holds, that she still maintains her element of surprise. Otherwise, the chase is on. Her prey looks around slowly, but his sweeping gaze misses her. Almost.

When it lands on her, they lock eyes. And it’s not fear in his eyes, but exasperation. Still, it’s enough for her to seize the opening.

She pounces, springing from the grass with her teeth bared. The growl in her throat finally lets loose, a ferocious sound that stuns her prey into submission. He falls to the side, baring his belly as her teeth gnaw at the fluff on his neck.

They don’t sink in. She doesn’t intend them to.

She gives a shout. A victory screech. A triumphant roar.

The Raptor is the fiercest predator in the tall grass!

Her prey watches, his belly to the sky, his tail wagging. The Raptor’s tail wags, too. She is proud.

She is even prouder when the door to her house opens and her mom calls, “Good job, Penny. You got your brother. Now come get your treats.”

The Raptor nearly bounces back to the house. After a nap on the couch, she may just need to sit by the door so she can go back out and stalk her prey again.