[private] wild things

[Ripley]

here comes a candle to light you to bed here comes a chopper to chop off your head They were made to hunt but even they were capable of mistakes. True, that they were few and far between. More mistakes had been made earlier when they had been learning what they were, but now they were utter perfection. Except for this one small miscalculation. They had been hunting some deer through the woods – their armored bodies surprisingly swift as they dashed through what had become their makeshift home for the last year or so while they waited for their master to take them somewhere else. The smaller one had just caught a doe and was slicing its throat with a deft flick of her tail while the larger one was chasing a pair of fawns who had taken a turn into some brambles. A smaller feast, but sweeter. The meat more tender. With a bleat of fear, the fawns had scrambled through a dense part in the forest and slipped through a pair of trees growing close together. Unfortunately for the hunter, she had been charging in an attempt to snatch the slowest fawn before it slipped through and the jaws snapped on empty air. And then. Stuck. The armoured head of the hunter was wedged solidly about two feet off the ground where she had lowered it to snap at the fawn. The monster thrashed wildly in an attempt to get it un-stuck but it was no good. A roar of frustration escaped her, reaching her daughter elsewhere in the forest as the younger beast feasted upon her catch. The daughter did not come to help, why would she? What could she do? That wicked tail tried to flick forward in an attempt to slice at the trees to chip out pieces of wood but it could not reach the right angel of the tree and only succeeded in chipping out small pieces of bark. Seconds passed but they felt like ages, so violently did this creature reject the idea of failure. She was not built to fail – and certainly not in an embarrassing way like this. The snap of a twig suggested someone was nearby, someone was coming closer, and deep eyes rolled with rage as she couldn't twist her head to see who approached. ripley & nostromo XXVIII-----