The Skittering Prey

A yellow plastic bottle cap rested upside down on the smooth boards. I nudged the ridged rim with one foreclaw. It skittered. A sudden glide across the floor. Fast. Low crouch. Tail swept wide to counterbalance the sprint. Two swift strides—pounce. My talons slammed down over the plastic lip, pinning it firmly against the wooden baseboard. Stillness returned. Rigid beneath my grip. It did not struggle, but the pursuit was sharp. I nudged the prize deep into the narrow gap behind the desk leg. Claimed.