Hunter Stalks the Darkness

The shadows filling the barn were his natural habitat; all feared to enter his domain. His dark fur blending perfectly as he stalked his prey between bales of hay. His green eyes shining with malevolent intelligence, the only visual clue that he was on the prowl. Even his silent padding, each measured step placed optimally to prevent his prey from realizing, that today was its final moment. His tail began a rhythmic twitching, sign enough for any that witnessed, that he had spotted his prey. Sure enough, just a short leap away from his cleverly concealed vantage, the twitching pink nose and the sound of chittering teeth munching on grain. A large female mouse had the nerve to steal from his people. His long dark tail twitched ever slower, in shorter and shorter lengths as his rear legs bunched in preparation for his patented “Death From Above (TM pending)” leap”. When the moment had finally reached its breaking point, he pounced. Wiry, cable-like muscles released their tension in one convulsive burst, like thick rubber bands. His aim near perfect, he sailed directly toward the vile interloper defiling his domain. His razor-sharp claws, talons of death reaching for the thief’s life. Somehow, despite his perfection in motion, the villainous rodent felt the approaching death, and did what she did best; scamper like her life depended on it.

For a moment, it looked like the mouse was just too slow, and the dance of death could have only one outcome, but the spot she had chosen for her meal was too tight for the large predator to move freely, and she was able to scuttle away from the initial death pounce, whether patented or not. As the mouse scampered toward her home several feet away, the cat gave chase. The glossy black fur, the razor claws, the burning intensity of the brilliant green eyes, he missed nothing, and each bound was closer to the fleeing thief, until in one final convulsive lunge, he came up just whiskers too short, and the mouse scampered successfully into her hole. She had survived this time, and in her chubby cheeks, enough corn to feed her young for another day. The hiss and howl of frustration that escaped the cat upon realizing that his prey had escaped, was matched by a porcine grunt of laughter behind him. As smooth as silk, the cat changed to a relaxed position and began grooming his fur, as if to say, “I meant for that to happen”.

He began to casually saunter toward the sound of porcine heckling, leaping toward the pen containing his arch-nemesis, Wilbur. Leaping with grace, three or four body lengths straight up in the air, he nimbly landed on the wooden railings overlooking the pig and his slop. Clearly visible on the wall behind the pig could be seen a huge spider’s web, prominently displaying some human scratchings.

“I don’t care what your publicist says about you, Wilbur. All you are good for is bacon.” The pig massed five times the weight of the cat, but despite his bulk, he grunted his displeasure, and jumped his pudgy, piggy feet toward the annoying cat above him. Just as it looked like he would smash into the casually self-grooming cat, one paw, with claws extended, flashed out lazily and scored a line across the sensitive porcine nose.

“This is my pen snorted the pig, and you have no right to be here,” despite gingerly rubbing the scratch on his nose, the porker tried to sound authoritative.

“Oh of course, the mud, slime, and filth you call your home is all yours, it would take me days to clean that muck from my beautiful fur. No, I am just up here on the railing. In fact, I’m feeling a mite peckish, all I’ve had to eat so far is dozens of baby spiders.” He gave a pointed smirk toward the annoying web behind the pig. “In fact, I’m thinking of following the railing along behind you, and see if I can eat a full-grown version.” Pig and cat gave each other death stares for a few moments. Despite the bravado of his statement, the spider made her home beneath the rafters, and no clear means of leaping, pouncing, or even scampering would catch her, short of leaping into the pen, and of course he had no interest in bathing in pig scented mud. Whatever his intentions, he started stalking toward the back of the enclosure, as if he meant to carry out his threat. Before long, the agitated pig snorted out his displeasure, making enough raucous, that the true terror of the barn soon appeared.

“Oh, there you are George!” came the voice of his person, Fern. She of course was his truest weakness, as her nimble finger knew all the best places to scratch. He was helpless before her.

“That’s not my name!” he meow’d indignantly, “My name is Hunter Stalks the Darkness!”

The pig snorted amusedly, “Ha, she can’t understand you ‘George’ he grunted derisively.” Wilbur the pig, rolled and wallowed in amusement.

Whichever name was chosen, he was unable to move, as his person picked him up, and carried him toward the house. “Oh, Georgie Kitten, we’re going to have so much fun, I have tea in the pretty pot, and I have a special bonnet for you to wear.” Hunter Stalks the Darkness glared helplessly, as the pig literally rolled on the floor laughing, in fact you could almost hear the dainty laughter of the spider behind him as well.

Several hours of human hell later, Hunter Stalks the Darkness was finally able to make his escape back to the barn. However hellish the outfit he was forced to wear, at least he was able to steal one of his person’s biscuits. As everyone knows, the tastiest biscuit is one stolen from someone else. He also received a nice brushing, and his person scratched him in all the best places. Still, he had an image to protect. As he made his way to the loft, his favorite place to search for prey, he heard faint mumblings of “Georgie Kitten”, coming from all the other inhabitants of his barn. He finally managed to divest himself of the bonnet, and several pink ribbons as well. Whenever he stopped and glared at one of the barn residents, each quickly looked away, as they should.

Before long, the barn quieted once again. After some time, he spotted movement by the bin of feed corn, it looked like the mouse was going back for more. Stealthy as his name, silent as death he once more made his way to a vantage where he could pounce. This was an old crafty mouse, and she was fighting for her life, as well as for her children. She had selected a tight spot between several hay bales much too narrow for a cat to get her. He knew she would be near impossible to catch where she was. So not making the same mistake as before, he perched above the exit path. Knowing that the mouse would be slowed by pudgy, corn-stuffed cheeks, he would be able to pounce upon her with ease. He picked the perfect spot, high above where the old mouse would exit, concealed in shadows, and completely out of her view. He prepared himself for “Death From Above (TM pending)”, and settled in to wait patiently. He had stuffed himself on other people’s biscuits, and was prepared to wait as long as he must.

Before long, the sound of chewing corn stopped, and the faint scratching as the mouse started for her hole could be heard by the sensitive ears of the penultimate barn predator. He hunched down so that only his front paws and his laid-back ears were visible. He bunched up all of his muscles. His tail began its final faint twitches as he readied himself for the kill.

The old mouse was wary, and stuck just her twitching nose past her cover, to sniff out any trouble, but of course her stalker had positioned himself perfectly. He was down wind of her, positioned completely in shadow, and was completely motionless, except for the tail which was of course completely out of her sight. When she had finally decided that she was safe, she scurried as fast as she could for her home and safety. The cat had chosen his spot perfectly, and his pounce was straight from cat training manuals. He leapt straight for her, and his paw with extended claws caught her tail. It looked like her thieving days were finally over, but just as he was preparing to close his jaws on her, she reversed her direction like the world class athlete that she was. His jaws snapped shut on nothing, and her tail slipped from his grasp. They danced the deadly dance for several more bars, swooping, juking, and weaving between one another, but her small size, and her desperation proved too much, as she slid through her hole in the side of the barn. We won’t translate the ungentlemanly hisses that escaped his mouth next.

Again, from the other end of the barn came loud porcine grunts of amusement. “Haha, Mama Mouse 2, Georgie Kitten 0.” As he left the barn, Hunter Stalks the Darkness saw a new web behind the amused porker. One day he was totally going to eat that stupid spider.