I lay quietly, enveloped in the warm, moist, darkness. Whatever lived in this cave before me must’ve rotted away. The stench is horrible, but this is only a temporary shelter. I dream of a bountiful hunt, the feast afterward, of my mate at home, and the many mouths I have to feed.  My only hope for survival, for feeding my family, is darkness and stealth.

I hear sounds, see a sliver of light. The enemy's afoot. I must be on my guard. They are more powerful and numerous than I. Open attack would be suicide. The rumblings fade into the distance. I try to stay alert, silently edging up to the border of my hiding place. I spy the enemy. They are all about me, yet seem more concerned with their own affairs than a single wayward hunter.

I creep back, unnoticed in...

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