Moonspear born for greatness

They're right to be scared. Even now, beneath the ever reaching protection of their mother, Atlas senses dread. Rather, the imitation of dread. Not for his family, of course. No, this is new. It is the trepidation of prey around them, scurrying to their homes with a terror so entwined in their very beings they can't help but emit it.

Atlas peers into the forest with a pensive expression. Fear can be smelled, says Hydra. While Atlas does indeed believe he can smell it, there is more to it than that; something freshly awakened and provoked to a furor. He nods at his mother's question. If he knew more, he would have tried to elaborate on this alien sensation. For now, he noiselessly ruminates whilst absorbing everything their mother has to teach.

Unpracticed eyes draw to the critter's movements. There, under tree and brush, scampers a rabbit.

Atlas quells that instinctual urge to give chase.

The eagle, however, does not. In one fell swoop, it plunges its talons into its frenzied prey. The rabbit vainly struggles, trying to thrash about to do what, he does not know. Dislodge itself from the raptor's grasp, possibly? It is too late. With several powerful beats of the bird's wings, it is airborne once more, squealing quarry in hand. It fades into the distance before vanishing altogether behind the crowded treetops.

What an amazing thing to witness, the drama between predator and prey. So much so, Atlas can only say but one word: Whoa.