Autumn's Days Are Numbered

Let's mindless reverie of bliss was suddenly interrupted by a beating of wings and a snarl, followed closely by a raucous screeching and flailing. Eyes popped open into narrow blood-red slits to stare down from her rock in a faint mixture of irritation and curiosity. What greeted her eyes was the much larger, lanky form of a yearling male, frantically beating a partridge against the ground. She continued to watch with slitted gaze until the stupid bird went still and quiet, her tail twitching against the rock in annoyance as she waited for the disturbed silence to return.

And finally, that blessed silence.

But it seemed like boyo had finally had the situational awareness to note her presence, for he turned his head to stare and she stared back for a long moment of silence. She had no problem letting the moment draw itself out, and got a hint of amusement at the idea of making the male uncomfortably aware that he was being watched. But she couldn't really go back to drowsing with him aware of her now. Big guy or not, she had no doubts she was scrappy enough to put him in the dirt if he tried to pull something, but not if she wasn't paying attention.

So she deliberately yawned widely, showing every ivory tooth, before returning her red eyes to him. "Sloppy," she taunted with lazy amusement. "I seen pups who waste less energy flailin' round ona hunt than that. That how you gonna take out th' bear who heared your liddle friend squawkin' and come to investigate too or are you expectin' they jest lay down an wait fer y' to gum 'em t'death? Thet ain't no way t'hunt."