Lake Rodney burn

a fell clutch of mountain's named for a greek goddess of stars had formed the roost for the cat thus far; he did not come out until twilight, and in the dim there he sat, twitching his whiskers at each sound that could be heard in the weald below him, and a rare firefly flitted affably around the broad squareness of his muzzle. 

wolves.

the woodlands stank of the hairy beasts, and their ugly little cubs, whose sole purpose in the cat's mind was to provide a tender source of succulent meat. they were loud, uncouth, filthy in comparison to the meticulously groomed existence of a wraith, and prone to dewanee --  that is, the madness.

as the moon hedged above the horizon, shardul departed his post and followed the scent of water to its mother-pool; a lake that caught the gilded light of early night and reflected it into the citrus of the cat's eyes. a broad tongue lapped at its surface; he lifted his dripping chin. "augh!" came his derisive chuff, for his nose brought him the scent of their loathsome groupings, and he was not hard-pressed to turn and walk back along the water's edge in the direction of his rocky nest.