Post by Wingscar on May 22, 2006 4:31:19 GMT -5
No matter where he went it was the same thing -- survival. The scents and sights changed but life was a continuous cycle. He wandered, he hunted, he drank, he slept, and occasionally the old sabre fought. Day in and day out he repeated the process-- repeated the task of surviving. It was a quiet existence, free of the responsibilities tied to a life in a pride. Wingscar had the leave of living his life the way he wanted without having to worrying about others. His existence was a languid one, for he was in no rush. The old male took his own sweet time everyday, as he was at the present moment, padding slowly through the long grass.
The sabre was an impressive creature, obviously proud in the way he held his head up high, face stern and pose regal. The muscles beneath his golden coat rippled magnificently with each graceful stride of his nimble legs. Wingscar was in prime condition, full of strength and vitality. He may have not been as young as he used to be, but the male was still in good health. His only real problem was when his joints began to ache but that usually only happened during the night when the air grew cool. He'd been traveling for most of the day and was aware that he had stepped into sabre pride territory. The scent markers left by the other sabres were fresh and had been easy to catch. Wingscar knew it was more than likely he'd run into one of the resident cats, but he wasn't worried.
At the present moment the male was distracted by more pressing matters. The deep rumbling emanating from his gut was as a good as hint as any. Wingscar was hungry, horrendously so; the big cat possessed the appetite suitable for a creature of his great size. His ears flicked and he raised his head, keen predatory gaze scanning the savannah for prey. Wingscar inhaled through his broad nostrils, testing the air for promising scents-- and he found one. A slow grin spread across his muzzle and the male lowered his head, getting low to the ground. He was on the prowl, seeking fresh meat to fill his growling belly.
He was hidden well within the cover of the long grass and the stripes of his body served to break up his form. Wingscar moved seamlessly and without a sound. He knew he was nearing his prey and when his eyes fell upon it, the feline stopped its movements and crouched lower to the earth. A lone male oryx stood a distance away, grazing near a watering hole. Wingscar began to move slowly, shoulder muscles flexing in a show of precise control. His claws unsheathed and he pushed forward through the grass, pausing immediately each time the huge antelope looked up from its meal of greens. The oblivious oryx turned its back to the feline, lowering its head for a drink. With the prey's deadly horns out of the way, Wingscar was presented with a prime opportunity to strike. His muscled coiled and he thrust forward, bursting from the grass with startling speed.
Wingscar gave a mighty leap and the oryx had no chance to react. Sharp claws sunk into the beast's flesh, sliding in with deadly ease. The massive creature had just enough time to release a panicked bellow before Wingscar pierced its back with his ivory sabres, severing the oryx's spine. The antelope collapsed to the ground, its weight causing a plume of dust to erupt from the earth. The sabre pulled his claws out from the dead beast and sheathed his claws, padding forward and into the watering hole so he could reach the antelope's neck. The sabre gripped the carcass and began to pull it towards the shade, which proved quite the feat, for the antelope was at least twice Wingscar's weight. Eventually he managed to tug the carcass under the shade of a lone tree. The sabre released his prize and laid down for a much needed rest. He'd regain his breath before daring to feast. Wingscar panted out in heavy huffs, senses attuned to his surroundings. He wasn't about to let scavengers rob him of his meal.
The sabre was an impressive creature, obviously proud in the way he held his head up high, face stern and pose regal. The muscles beneath his golden coat rippled magnificently with each graceful stride of his nimble legs. Wingscar was in prime condition, full of strength and vitality. He may have not been as young as he used to be, but the male was still in good health. His only real problem was when his joints began to ache but that usually only happened during the night when the air grew cool. He'd been traveling for most of the day and was aware that he had stepped into sabre pride territory. The scent markers left by the other sabres were fresh and had been easy to catch. Wingscar knew it was more than likely he'd run into one of the resident cats, but he wasn't worried.
At the present moment the male was distracted by more pressing matters. The deep rumbling emanating from his gut was as a good as hint as any. Wingscar was hungry, horrendously so; the big cat possessed the appetite suitable for a creature of his great size. His ears flicked and he raised his head, keen predatory gaze scanning the savannah for prey. Wingscar inhaled through his broad nostrils, testing the air for promising scents-- and he found one. A slow grin spread across his muzzle and the male lowered his head, getting low to the ground. He was on the prowl, seeking fresh meat to fill his growling belly.
He was hidden well within the cover of the long grass and the stripes of his body served to break up his form. Wingscar moved seamlessly and without a sound. He knew he was nearing his prey and when his eyes fell upon it, the feline stopped its movements and crouched lower to the earth. A lone male oryx stood a distance away, grazing near a watering hole. Wingscar began to move slowly, shoulder muscles flexing in a show of precise control. His claws unsheathed and he pushed forward through the grass, pausing immediately each time the huge antelope looked up from its meal of greens. The oblivious oryx turned its back to the feline, lowering its head for a drink. With the prey's deadly horns out of the way, Wingscar was presented with a prime opportunity to strike. His muscled coiled and he thrust forward, bursting from the grass with startling speed.
Wingscar gave a mighty leap and the oryx had no chance to react. Sharp claws sunk into the beast's flesh, sliding in with deadly ease. The massive creature had just enough time to release a panicked bellow before Wingscar pierced its back with his ivory sabres, severing the oryx's spine. The antelope collapsed to the ground, its weight causing a plume of dust to erupt from the earth. The sabre pulled his claws out from the dead beast and sheathed his claws, padding forward and into the watering hole so he could reach the antelope's neck. The sabre gripped the carcass and began to pull it towards the shade, which proved quite the feat, for the antelope was at least twice Wingscar's weight. Eventually he managed to tug the carcass under the shade of a lone tree. The sabre released his prize and laid down for a much needed rest. He'd regain his breath before daring to feast. Wingscar panted out in heavy huffs, senses attuned to his surroundings. He wasn't about to let scavengers rob him of his meal.
