Stalking the Morning Patch

Grrrk! My claws dug deep into the damp dirt as I prowled past a rotting log. The early sun cut sharp beams through the tall trees. Ahead, a dry brown leaf fluttered in the breeze, scraping softly against a flat stone. I flattened low, tail rigid, muscles tensed. Hiss! With a sudden burst, I lunged forward and slammed both front claws right onto the rustling leaf, pinning it flat against the rock. Crunch! I gnawed its brittle stem in half, then shook my snout with a sharp snap of my jaws. Nothing moves in my woods without a fight.