Morningside Cuesta morning glory

Frederick watched him spring for the hare, observing intently. Ears swivelled forwards as he listened to pawsteps thunder after the small rabbits' feet. The man was unblinking, readjusting his posture for a moment as he waited for Lestan to zip forwards and take the Hare by the scruff.

Frederick liked to consider himself a patient man. His tail was neatly tucked against his hind leg, his maw shut and his ears, eyes, watchful, perceptive. He wondered if Lestan had picked up on his presence just yet.

He wouldn't publicly announce it so soon—that would only make his hunt more difficult, Frederick thought. Should the rabbit only get further scared; use more adrenaline. Escape. That would be less than desirable.

So he continued peering at the figure. Watching him sprint. Sitting in place.