Meadowlark Prairie Hit the ground

How many Mar threads can I have?

Carrots uses the prairie to his advantage.  He’d been there a few days now and no one had noticed yet.  He’d caught a few mice, a bird once, but beyond that it is slim pickings.  The days have gotten colder and he didn’t have a makeshift house to rely on this year.  He’d gotten picked up in the city, knocked out, and released away from the metal jungle.  Now, a few weeks later, he’s in the wild like his great ancestors, but he surely didn’t see it that way.  A few old ladies in his neighborhood left food out for him, if he’d been up for cereal, but there were plenty of plump rats at his disposal.  If anything, he’d lost a few pounds trying to fend for himself.

Fighting off other cats for his territory had been one thing.  The occasional German Shepherd that got loose every few weeks from the house four blocks down gave him a run for his money, but more times than not the dog nearly lost an eye with deadly claws swiping from the small crevice he’d fit himself into.

The wolf he spies upon a hill through the tall grass catches his attention and he slowly stalks forward.  The German Shepherd—Riggo—doesn’t come close into comparision to what this guy’s packing. 

The wind picks up a little and his dark ears cup forward, squinting his eyes and looks back to the wolf.

“If you build it, they will come.”

His words end on a heavy gust of wind, blowing his scent away from the wolf and ruffling the tall grasslands.  As they roll, Carrots takes off to the other side of the wolf, leaving the large canine pointed to where he’d been standing, and keeps himself tucked away into the tall grasses.