06-26-2017, 07:23 PM
Through despair and hope, Through faith and love. Till we find our place, on the path unwinding.
Zenith is nearly always hungry. And today, he has been hunting far too long for much too small of game. His long golden back and elbows are low to the ground, his powerful shoulders and haunches level with the tops of the meadow grasses. He is a lion, and he pads softly towards his prey.
He does not hunt anything equine, he never has, and probably never will. Maybe that’s why his belly is never really full. Like most days, today he is hunting his usual quarry, ground squirrels, chipmunks, maybe a coyote if he is lucky. The forest provides him with deer and rabbits, but he enjoys the open spaces of the meadow, and often finds himself here despite the lesser game.
But all of his thought of food are dismissed when a scent much like his own, yet foreign catches his attention. He sits upright then, all efforts for stealth abandoned, his massive head turning on his maned shoulders in search of the source of the feline scent.
And then he sees her. Like a shooting star she appears and disappears in the tall grasses, and he lets out a gruff wuff, which is half laugh and half summons. It would be good to meet another of his kind, or almost his kind, again.
ZENITH