Fall 18th, 511 AV, Noon
Riley crouched low in the snow, her ears pinned back and her pupils dilated fully, dominating silver-green irises as they fixated on the white birds scrounging for morsels in the white ocean. Her body was taut, her tail stiffened but for the tip, which flicked left and right restlessly.
A loud growl rumbled through Riley's stomach and she tensed altogether. Two birds lifted off and flapped into the boughs of the trees at Riley's back, making their squawking noises as they settled in on the branches.
Riley's tail twitched again.
Her rear lifted and her body wiggled. Such a "childish" instinct driven into her. Real leopards didn't make stupid motions with their bodies. House cats did. Riley was, in all intents and purposes, a leopard trapped as a house cat. She was trained, conditioned, and tutored in all she should be. Her Master wanted to know when she was about to pounce on her prey. He had wanted a pet, and so he had her trained as such. A domesticated leopard. At least she had her true instincts deep inside her soul, sewn in where they couldn't be found and removed.
She used them now, doing the creeping movement forward most cats, big and small, were found of. The birds rustled their feathers and one looked up, right at Riley.
A terrified sound erupted from the bird's beak and immediately the flock was in motion. Riley followed soon after, lunging and snapping at the birds, swiping her large paw at a few of the slower ones still horking down whatever grub or fruit that grew up so far north. One bird went sprawling after her hit, fluttering around in a panicked frenzy as it fought to get upright and away from the cat that hopped onto it, pinning it to the ground, and biting at its head to kill it quickly.
Riley didn't like to make anything suffer, or fear. She hated it. She understood it. The bird didn't die easy, however, and yet it didn't have the energy to fight as its lifeblood stained the pure snow. The other birds fought more than enough, though. Riley found it necessary to pick up her still heaving prey and retreat to a safe distance in the tree line. She could hear the angry screams as she got out of their area of expertise. They knew their domains, it seemed, as a bird would find it difficult to get airborne again after attacking her under the snow-laden boughs of trees.
Riley dropped her bird and looked down at it. Blood no longer flowed, but seeped. It was dead.
The death caused a twinge of guilt within Riley, deep inside her soul and mind, and she ignored the bird for now to allow its soul to leave as she tended to her wounds. Those birds were little devils, and their beaks were as tough as their tiny claws. The Kelvic was glad she had at least made off with one, even if it was a slow one.
Now she turned back to her bird, nosing it gently as birds squawked in the trees. She began to eat, listening to the noises around her for the predators. She knew that she could go as the bird did.