Lost Creek Hollow Under The Sun

The nagging feeling of being watched intensified. Black ear tilted back at a small sound. Like the hiding of a noise. He lifted his black head and cut yellow eyes back the way he had come. Glimpses of something, but what he coudln't tell. He felt not aminosity from whatever was following, so he lent his  nose back to the trail.

In a chattering burst a weasel darted from the underbrush and he growled and jumped forward to grasp it in sharp jaws. One big shake and it hunt limp from his maw. Blood oozing between his teeth. With careful precision he tossed it over his shoulder and began the hunt for more.