101 Vultures

*Costa* · 12-28-2015, 07:53 PM

Winter in the east felt more like perfection to the ashy toned lass who found her way among the tangle of undergrowth. Her relatively unimpressive height made maneuvering a whole hell of lot easier than if she were a good 50-80 pounds heavier than she was. Her grey ears were pinned to her skull, avoiding the mess of pokey twigs and leaves just above her head.

Lavender eyes would cast to the sky, what little of it could be seen through the canopy that was, as her paws carried her forward more and more. Her gut was sunk in, showing her empty stomach like a white flag to the world screaming, 'I surrender!" But she didn't surrender, she was a fighter who always scrapped by. Her means of living was meager but she managed; at least she hadn't died yet. Her optimism made her smile as she braked to lap water from a rather sorry excuse for a creek. Water dribbled down her chin as she once more looked skyward, this time tilting her head back and swiveling it around as if searching for something.

From above the trees came a cry, the silhouette of a bird racing by. She gave a mental "aha" before stepping over the creek. She moved at a brisk trot and slowly the trees peeled back, thinning more and more until they opened to reveal flat rock face. It was narrow and long but not very tall. To one side it was crumbled. She evaluated for a moment before jumping up to perch on the wall that was roughly a foot in width. The stone was solid and offered her a vantage point for what she was searching for.

A wake of vultures squabbled quite loudly over a carcass that was nearly indistinguishable under the mass of black feathers and bald heads. A deer, young, felled in ways unknown without a closer look. She stood, balancing on the stone ledge with her tail raised. Hackles rose as she leaped down, charging across the open with a violent snarl. The birds, who had been too caught up to notice her, were now flailing to gain air and escape the fangs that fell over them. They didn't move quickly enough and one ended up under her teeth. The feeling of the feathers in her mouth nearly made her gag but instead she clamped down, snapping the life out of the large black bird's body.

She stepped back, the commotion over and the prize before her. She tossed the limp vulture to the side, casting it off without a second thought. Intestines were spilled out before her and a good amount of the meat was already gone. She did a once over, checking for cause of death. THERE. Her eyes locked on a back leg, deformed by the hoof. Perhaps it was born that way or perhaps by some miracle it had survived a nasty break. Either way, winter had killed the yearling doe.

Her tail swept back and forth behind her once, twice, and then she dug into her claimed feast.

"Speech"

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101 Vultures

Costa