Rage stood over his latest kill. Not a cat this time, no, he was taking some down time after his latest assassination. The large Squirrel lay dead at his paws, a slow trickle of blood pooling onto the ground beside him. Rage watched in interest, momentarily halting all his thought progress as white blue eyes watched the morbid display. Eyes that should mean blindness. The moment passed as quickly as it had come and Rage bent his head to start feeding. Rotating his ear every so often so as to ensure his wasn’t caught unawares he let his thoughts turn inwards. Lately he’d been thinking about getting an apprentice, or even just a companion. The thoughts always made his darker side laugh, a laugh that if it could be heard, would chill the bones of even the strongest warrior.
It brought a small chuckle to his lips, which he quickly silenced with another bite of squirrel. His latest attempt at trying to be civil to someone had ended badly, for the opposing party of course, but all the same, badly. The new scar on his shoulder tingled in phantom pain causing Rage to pause in both his musings and his eating. The sound of a stick snapping pulled his attention to a bush only a few fox lengths away, internally smiling Rage sat up tall and pretended to begin washing himself. It was a ploy he pulled often, let the enemy think you don’t know they’re there until the last moment. But today he decided wouldn’t be a game of sport; it’d be a game of minds.
“I know you’re the there,” he whispered, letting the words ghost off his tongue.