The Hunt

To hunt or to be hunted she thought as she sat at the table after a meal, wearing a cute one piece. Ping went a notification, which did not invoke a single twitch from her at all. The phone pinged that much somedays that if it had accompanying cords a song could very well be playing. Consequently, the phone was almost always in do not disturb mode. She sat and gazed out the window observing the perfect balance of nature. Her primal instinct was to hunt. But was hunting for her amusement to satisfy her sexual desire, or was it simply to play.

Hunting had become like shooting fish in a barrel, it briefly sustained her. She guessed it served a purpose, however most of the time it was far from mentally stimulating.

She often wondered where the lone wolves had come to migrate to. It had been a good number of years since she had seen one unrestrained in the wild.

She loved nothing more than watching a lone wolf hunt, as he looked at the smorgasbord of availability. It didn't matter to her whether he hunted in broad daylight, in the shadows or the cover of darkness. She had both admiration and a distinct fascination to acquisition one for herself.

But to find a lone wolf for herself was not within the guidelines of the law of nature. For in nature the lone wolf is the hunter, not the prey.

In nature, the lone wolf will cover great expanses of land. Consisting scanning the terrain, observing and noticing what is of interest to him. Such as the scent of a female and her pheromones that would linger in the air as she walked close by.

He would make a mental note of her scent, her shapely silhouette and read her soul through her eyes when their eyes met. The lone wolf is always grounded in the knowledge of exactly who and what he is. He does not compare himself to others, his strength is drawn from his grounded ability to stand alone. Little will deter him from his hunt for he knows exactly what he wants and he will not lose focus.

She got up from the table and stretch her perfectly petit figure with a slight smirk on her face. I need a drink of water she thought to herself. She jumps to the floor her four cute paws land ever so evenly and effortlessly. With a long curl and a quick twitch of the end of her tail. She bows her shapely neck pushing her tail into the air as she begins to drink water from the bowl. Adorning her neck is a single black leather collar and the tag attached to the ring of O reads “my kitty”.