Paws strike over the forest floor,
A rolling thunder of claws and teeth.
Tails whip into the leaves,
And the baying of the hounds grows louder.
They near their terrified prey,
Jaws snapping as they lunge for its heels.
They surround it, nipping at its soft skin,
Keeping their target at bay as they wait for the slow-footed hunter.
Sun dapples their rippling fur, foam flecking their ivory teeth,
And the deer rears, striking out, eyes rolled back.
The dogs evade the lightning attacks, darting in and out,
As a shot rings through the air, and their prey falls to its knees.
Panting but pleased, they huddle together to look at their kill,
For great is the pride of the pack, the hunting dogs.
Author notes
Finally, I'm back on track with this series!
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