Firefly Glen Copacabana

rolled an even to catch a birb!

 

Hydra's eyes would dart to Meerkat, as she broke the silence. The second time, Hydra attempted to gather her attention to the way she moved. A deliberate slowness to her prowl, an exaggerated softness in her step. So gently did she touch the earth before she bore her weight upon that paw again that it was as though she had not touched it at all. The way her body cut through the long grass was slow enough that even as her shoulder dragged against the edges of the stuff, it did not so much as stir. 

When they were close enough, her own body was much the same as Bronco's. Her muscles were taut, and though her paw had hovered over the earth she placed it down gently. Her nostrils flared—and as Bronco moved, Hydra used the strength of her hinds to push her forward. She was not so surprised by the sound of their wings as her companion, but then, she had caused a shock to many a flock in her own lifetime to know what would come. 

One bound, two, and she lunged upward, her eyes honed upon a bird within her reach. The downward beat of its wings was inevitable, but Hydra was not an expert at avian fare. It was half skill, half luck, then, that caused her fangs to catch the feathered appendage. As she landed, she, too, gave a vicious, hearty shake. It was over for the thing rather quickly, all things considered.