the baddest

fighting seasonal prompt
word count: 227

The moon lingered high in the sky and the stars shone bright, bathing the gently swaying long grass of the plains in an almost silvery sheen. It was bed time, or at least it ought to have been, but Ophie wasn't ready to sleep just yet. She didn't stray far from the den, close enough that she should skitter back at the first sign of trouble, but lingered in the moonlight all the same. Her home was such a busy place, full of very busy people but at night it just sort of felt quiet, in a nice way. Not for long though. Peace didn't really to be an option around here, which was fine. More than fine really! Ophie squatted down low at the sound of rustling grass and wriggled her rear, ready to pounce on whoever emerged. And oh how their fight would be legendary! A tale told for ages and ages, till her Ma and Da started to get old and grey around the muzzle. The grass shifted again and the paw steps were closer, louder. On instinct she unsheathed her claws and scritched at the dirt, leaving little grooves in their wake. Had she any common sense she would have checked the scent to see who approached but she was riding the high of anticipation, all excitement with little thought. Just Ophie things.