She watched her prey, as she had been for weeks. She knew every movement, every gesture. She knew habits, routines, the perfect place to strike. She could feel the anticipation grow; soon, very soon, and she would have her prize. But it took patience, planning, things she had in abundance. She could wait, until the right moment. That was part of the joy of the hunt, after all. Having the perfect moment, seeing the look of fear, feeling the rush of adrenaline. It would be all the sweeter, to do it right.
The house cat stood against the window, watching the rabbit hop closer through the grass outside. Soon, she thought. Soon.
© The Lightning Tower, 2020