The Hopeful Fox

The stealthy fox krept closer to the vision of abundance he smelled on a hot breeze hours before. He ate last three days ago and his hide felt pasted to rib cage. Finally his search was nearly done. If he could avoid alerting the lookout prairie dog, he'd eat tonight. He slowed to a step by painful step trying to anticipate the hill of prairie dog's reaction to his proximity.

He was a young fox and hunting skills were slowly improving, but twice the past few days he spooked his prey and went on hungrier than the night before simply because he'd gotten so close his saliva dripped in anticipation only to be thwarted.

He was so close now and the lookout hadn't signaled danger to the foraging prairie dog family. Pups played with an adolescent relative, playfully chirping their own language and dashing behind the hapless young playmate.

He crouched low and slunk cautiously forward. Every muscle coiled to rush at the weakest and most hapless prairie dog.

He selected a young female recently delivered of pups resting furthest from the lookout. His muscles tightened and his hind legs prepared him to launch from a patch of dried, twisted scrag brush.

His forepaw landed precariously on dried twigs letting out a loud "pop!" The lookout whirled spotting the movement and let out a shrill, prolonged whistle of alarm and the hill of prairie dogs sprang as a unit barrelling into dens carved from the dry, packed earth.

He launched into the open heading for the targeted prairie dog which was scuttling toward the den trailing her by less then two strides. He stretched his furry neck to seize her on a hindquarter. The lookout rushed him with wicked teeth snapping at the unwelcome hunter. The starving fox dodged several thrusts from the husky prairie dog, and the female reached the mouth of the den to the excited barks from within its darkness.

The guardian prairie dog advanced, experienced in the art of war and met the young fox full on and landed sharp bites on the fox's muzzle tearing hide away and exposing pink flesh. The fox yelped in surprise, snarling with fierce desperation and gnawing hunger whetted by the promise of satiation. He backed away from the lookout prairie dog on limber legs. The prairie dog carried on his high pitched barks.

The fox ran wide realizing he'd lost the element of surprise. This was the only way he might ever succeed in this type of hunt as he loped off, hungry once more, into the night.

SRC

Today's prompt is hill of prairiedogs
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