Wren took another slow step, the blazing sunlight raw on the back of his head and the heat of the rocks scorching the bottom of his feet. Tiny sticks prickled between his toes, but he ignored them. His eyes and thoughts honed in on the little creature as it nosed about in the leaf litter.
What was it doing out in the afternoon sun?
For that matter, what was he doing out in the afternoon sun?
Easy.
He was hoping to find something to eat, that’s what he was doing out here, and there it was, right in front of him. Small and skinny and very probably just as hungry as him.
One more step.
By now his breath was burning in his chest and his heart was thumping, but he didn’t dare breathe out, in case it noticed him.
Wren’s foot wobbled and he forced himself to be still. Still as the hot, dry air. Still as the ancient rocks. Still as a hunter could make themselves…
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