Spatula's Forest

The silvery beast lifted her head, ears straining behind her thorny horns. Her tongue stiffened as a breeze ruffled her fur. She fought back dribble as she identified the scents coming to her on the wind; half a mile away at the gully there was a herd of about five unicorns grazing.

There was a storm coming. Would she have time to make a clean kill before the rain arrived to soak the white pelts she desired so? She hurried through the forest, hoping she could outrun the rumbling storm.

Spatula neared the herd, but just as she poked her head out the cover of foliage, she spotted her enemy looking down at the same mythical beasts she hungered for. A quiet growl reverberated deep in her throat as she backed away quietly, still sore from her last encounter with Ackopelo.

Rain began to pitter-patter against the leaves, as if it too were driving her away from the meal.