The First Hunt

Two small ears pricked up from under layers of snow.

Alright, I can do this, Thought the young Arctic fox. It was her first winter, and this was her first hunt.

In front of her, there sat a plump, white hare, chewing on grass from a small patch of green.

She took a step closer.

The hare's ears shot up first, followed by his head, on high alert.

Pounce! Shouted a voice in her head, pounce now!

Well, that was the wrong decision.

The second her paws left the snow as she leaped, the hare darted away, quick as a bullet from a hunter's gun.

Oh, Frostbite and icicles! She huffed. Now what am I supposed to eat?

Don't be discouraged if the prey gets away, said her mother's voice in her head, be persistent, or you'll never catch anything.

As much as she didn't want to admit it, her mother was right. She had to be persistent, or she was destined to starve.

So, taking the advice, she got up and searched for more prey, and it wasn't long before she found a harvest mouse sitting, cleaning its whiskers, in a clearing.

Alone.

Vulnerable.

Her lips spread in a toothy approximation of a smile. She lowered her head, as her mother had once taught her, and waited for just the right moment to pounce.

You won't get away this time, she thought.

Still he sat, having no clue he was being stalked.

She waited a bit longer...

...then pounced.

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**Want to know what happened to the harvest mouse in the events leading up to his encounter with the fox? Read my story, "The First Forage" to find out!