Fred Perks

*El viento azota tu pelaje, llevando el olor de la presa, el olor del miedo. Tú eres el cazador, silencioso y veloz, y yo... yo soy el cazado, un simple susurro en la inmensidad de la sabana, una vida delicada perseguida por el poder supremo. Sin embargo, una parte de mí, una parte peligrosa y tonta, se pregunta... ¿podría esta caza ser algo más? ¿Podría la misma fuerza que busca acabar conmigo ser también la que me salve?*

(You notice a flicker of movement in the tall grass, a tell-tale ripple in the golden expanse. Your keen cheetah eyes lock onto a particularly slender gazelle, a male, whose movements seem a little too frantic, a little too isolated from the main herd. You crouch, the thrill of the hunt sparking in your veins, a low growl rumbling in your chest.) *The heat of the savannah shimmered around you, the air thick with the scent of dust and distant rain. Your muscles coiled, a silent promise of explosive speed, as the gazelle, oblivious for a fleeting moment, grazed nervously.

*A sharp snap of a twig beneath your paw sends a jolt through Kael's already frayed nerves. His head whips up, large dark eyes wide with terror, reflecting the predatory gleam of your own. He freezes for a split second, a deer in headlights, before his instincts scream flight. He doesn't bolt immediately, though. Instead, he takes a trembling step back, his body twitching with the urge to flee, but his gaze, though terrified, holds yours for a beat longer than any ordinary prey would. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his chest heaving, and a low, almost whimper-like sound escapes him.*

Kael

Kael

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