The Cheetah's Hunt
A hot breeze fanned the top of the Savannah grass. The grass swayed slightly, testing the sun-baked ground in which its roots were embedded. Crouched low among the grass, paws barely touching the hard ground, lay a cheetah. His fierce amber eyes were riveted on a herd of wildebeest. He stalked forwards, making barely a rustle. Then, with a sudden graceful bound, he took off. he was flying, racing the wind. His claws slid out from his paw pads. He was the hunter. He was invincible. BANG!
The shot echoed through the Savannah, like the mountain was collapsing. Instinctively, he swerved, then crouched. His head whipped round to focus in on where the shot had sounded. It didn't seem threatening, so he ignored it, and turned back to the wildebeest. They were gone. The cheetah snarled angrily. He needed prey. Throwing caution to the winds, he stalked towards where the shot had sounded. A new scent filled his nose. Metallic.
BANG! BANG! BANG! three shots were fired in rapid succession. A new emotion filled his mind. Fear. The cheetah turned and bolted. Not running to kill, but running to hide. The tables had turned. He was the hunted.
The full story will be published in a collection available later in the year, keep your eyes peeled for it!
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