The Night Stalker

The Night Stalker

He sat in silence. Watching and listening.

The night was still and crisp. Like a winter postcard.

The wind that had whistled around during the day, disturbing his rest had died down and there was only a slight dusting of snow.

The moon was high and bright and the sky was clear.

The ground before him was still, nothing moved not even a grass blade.

“What was that?” he had heard a feint sound, his head whipped round silently and he narrowed his eyes.

Held his breath for the count of 5. Nothing more was heard. He exhaled steadily and slowly blinked twice.

He returned his head to its original position, still listening.

He had lived here all of his life, in this very same area.

He had watched generations of others pass by, in the blink of an eye.

He had also seen many of his age die before him. He had been lucky and managed to survive where others had perished.

He heard another sound. He zeroed in on the source and again held his breath for the count of 5.

Movement! It was there again. There was someone moving out there.

They were trying hard to cover their movement but he could still detect them.

He shrugged his shoulders and shifted his position ever so slightly.

He always loved the anticipation of the hunt, he had honed his skills to be near silent, none of his victims ever heard him coming.

He considered his surroundings. So peaceful.

The area around him was protected, so there was very little interference from outside factors, no roads, only footpaths and bridal ways. Busier during the day but at this time of night, nothing.

A perfect hunting ground, for those inclined as he was.

He had always expected he would have been caught by now, like so many others before him, but he was fortunate. And clever. He never left a trace of his presence or bodies to be discovered.

He was in the elite of his kind. Nature had designed him that way.

And he was grateful for those blessings.

This was his land and he ruled from the shadows. His potential victims, always in fear that one day, it would be their turn and he would come for them. But they still came out at night, they still left the comfort and safety of their homes, playing roulette with him and their lives.

But he knew this was the way of things, he knew there were those like him, that hunted those like them.

He was grateful for this and for the universe making it so.

He was free and untethered, able to revel in his own brilliance and cunning.

The noise pulled him from his thoughts again and his attention turned to the task at hand. His next victim was waiting.

He turned his disc like face towards the sound and pinpointed the exact tussock of grass the sound had come from.

He took off from his branch and in silence directed his body towards the source.

His face and eyes locked onto noise, as he approached the unwitting creature, he adjusted his wings to give accuracy to his talons.

He couldn’t see them yet, but he knew they were there.

His brought his wings up together and extended his razor-sharp talons out in front of him.

The silence and accuracy with which he moved was terrifying.

He dropped down on the vole and felt his claws pierce its soft flesh as he gripped. A small, muffled squeak was heard then nothing.

It never saw him coming.

He beat his wings to lift himself off of the ground again, returning to his perch to enjoy his warm, succulent catch.

He looked around him once more, taking in the beauty and peace of it all.

Another life taken, and not a thing had changed.

He closed his big, black eyes slowly, once again thanking the universe for his luck and his survival.

He took up his prey to consume it, before the night stalker set out to hunt again.

Image: https://www.nhm.ac.uk/discover/barn-owl-tyto-alba.html