| General Flash Fiction posted March 8, 2021 |
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Lioness hunts Zebra
The Last Hunt
by Aussie
The fog rose slowly, heralding the heat of Africa. She lay supine, hardly breathing. Old Yellow eyes watching.
Every season she repeated her watching and waiting for the signs of dust rising. Listening for the thunder of hooves as the Zebras raced across the yellow grasslands to their new grazing grounds.
Year after year she waited for the familiar sight of large herds, calves at foot and especially weak animals. Her nose twitched as she picked up their scent. Golden pelt glistening, muscles clenched - ready to spring into action. Not knowing this would be her last hunt.
Close by, poachers were watching her. Tattered ears flicked forward, the herd thundered towards her.
She rose, muscles of steel flexed, her eyes had chosen her prey. Small calf trying to keep up; she charged the galloping herd. Gigantic paws catching slim limbs - she missed.
Again she gave chase - a single shot rang out.
Flash Fiction contest entry
The fog rose slowly, heralding the heat of Africa. She lay supine, hardly breathing. Old Yellow eyes watching.
Every season she repeated her watching and waiting for the signs of dust rising. Listening for the thunder of hooves as the Zebras raced across the yellow grasslands to their new grazing grounds.
Year after year she waited for the familiar sight of large herds, calves at foot and especially weak animals. Her nose twitched as she picked up their scent. Golden pelt glistening, muscles clenched - ready to spring into action. Not knowing this would be her last hunt.
Close by, poachers were watching her. Tattered ears flicked forward, the herd thundered towards her.
She rose, muscles of steel flexed, her eyes had chosen her prey. Small calf trying to keep up; she charged the galloping herd. Gigantic paws catching slim limbs - she missed.
Again she gave chase - a single shot rang out.
Every season she repeated her watching and waiting for the signs of dust rising. Listening for the thunder of hooves as the Zebras raced across the yellow grasslands to their new grazing grounds.
Year after year she waited for the familiar sight of large herds, calves at foot and especially weak animals. Her nose twitched as she picked up their scent. Golden pelt glistening, muscles clenched - ready to spring into action. Not knowing this would be her last hunt.
Close by, poachers were watching her. Tattered ears flicked forward, the herd thundered towards her.
She rose, muscles of steel flexed, her eyes had chosen her prey. Small calf trying to keep up; she charged the galloping herd. Gigantic paws catching slim limbs - she missed.
Again she gave chase - a single shot rang out.
 Recognized |
Flash Fiction 150 words exactly. Australian English and grammar. Old lioness hunts for food only to be shot by poachers.
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