through the looking glass

. . .


"Awwww," the cat cooed, far more taunting than genuine. She lowered her muzzle a little, letting her ears round, black ears tip back ever so slightly - such a perfect display of regret and pity that it had to be fake. "That is too bad," she sighed gently, and she raised herself soundlessly from her haunches as though coming over to console. It was eerily the way she moved- under the lulling thunder from the falls any slight rasp of pad or brush of fur was totally drowned. She could've been nothing more than a vision, or, perhaps more accurately, a killing spirit of the ancient world come to haunt the living.

But whatever appearances were, and whatever the cat herself believed, she knew there was a part of her that was flesh and blood, for only a real heart could pump with such sadistic excitement. It was the oldest tease of all - a cat toying with her catch. Only it was reserved this time, instead of letting the prey believe it had a chance at life for killing it, Silverback was leading the wolf on to think that it was going to die.

There was only a yard or so between the two faes, and Silverback was able to close it quickly enough. With the drugs still going through the mouse's system it was unlikely it would be able to move much, and even if not, there was no place to go. That mock reluctance was still in the cat's eyes, but now it was fading, as though the hunter had made up her mind. "Stay still now," she rumbled half stern, half helpful. "I shall make this as quick as I can." She was bringing her muzzle closer and closer to the brown wolf's throat, her heart bouncing with wicked excitement as she did.