OMNIA MORS POSCIT. LEX EST, NON PŒNA, PERIRE
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Mapplethorpe
January 2nd; Late afternoon; Overcast; 9° F/-13° C.Snow, frost, and ice everywhere but not even a track in sight. Though, Mapplethorpe was quite a reservoir for knowledge, once all his options and tactics in tracking and hunting were exhausted, then the rogue was truly lost... vulnerable to the hunger pangs and every other possible distraction - devices which almost successfully derailed his mind and rendered him blind and stupid. It was nothing short of frustrating. For the past six hours, faint trails caught his interest here and there but the overnight snowstorm did a superb job in covering up any visible trace of the comings and goings of deer, rabbits, and foxes. Bit by bit his feral instincts were returning, driving him to survive. To hunt, to seek, to use his nose and. Stop. Thinking.
His stomach gave an audible gurgle and he paused briefly to mentally scold it. It protested as he forged onward through the frostbitten vines, slowly but steadily navigating his way between the spindly, crooked trees that made up the Ghastly Woods. He thought about stopping to rest, or stand still for a couple of minutes to recoup, but the sudden movement of something dashing by out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. One sniff was all it took -
Sense. React.
All at once the hunter within him rose up. Tunnel vision zeroed in on his target's supposed path. His paws drove him after the fresh trail in long strides. His tail lashed out behind him, holding steady to make his spine and tail bones one long horizontal line. It seemed to happen in an instant, snow flew in all directions, blotches of red stained the forest floor, and Mapplethorpe was sprawled out on the uneven ground with his tail sweeping happily over the ground behind him.
The sinew on the hapless old hare were meager pickings. Even its bones seemed tasteless in comparison to the mice he had had a few days ago. His belly sounded out in satisfaction as he attempted to make a secondary feast out of one of the hare's velveteen ears. Absentmindedly, his body corrected itself, pulling his hind limbs in and straightening his forepaws. If today had the possibility of engaging him in another encounter like his most recent meetings, he would be ready to at least guard his meal instead of surrendering it to the nosy, curious or, goodness forbid, hungry.