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The Hunter; sits, motionless, for hours on end.
Invisible. Completely blended in with the background.
The fiercest predator on the Planet.
Gaze fixed. Ears pricked. Alert to the slightest sound.
Muscles taut. Sinews like piano wires.
Ready to strike. A picture of concentration…..
The Killer Instinct, honed for thousands of years,
Improved, perfected by each succeeding generation.
The adrenalin cursing through his veins,
Winding him up like a tempered steel spring.
Another of his species approaches, a low growl emanates,
“Heyup, Dennis! Tha said there woz some fish in ‘ere! I ant caught a bloody thing!”
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