Aaaa short writing storage

Honey hunted because it meant she always had dinner. She fed herself, and she didn’t rely on people who she didn’t trust; this did mean twice a month she had to go out and find prey, kill it, and do all the work of skinning and cutting the meat. Sometimes a friend would do it, and Honey would give them some meat as payment. Everyone said Honey always picked out the best prey. Everyone said it was as if she could tell how each prey tasted before she even laid a claw on it. Honey was proud. 

Honey always wondered why there was four-legged prey, but never any four-legged predators. She probably should have paid attention in biology. The deer and rabbit population was getting out of control, and not many bounty hunters tried their luck here. Too dark, they said. Perfect for Honey. Her own little place to control.

This herd of deer was small, and her target was a young stag, in his prime years. It stood watch over the does and fawns, always looking around. It never looked up. 

Honey shifted uncomfortably on the tree limb. She had been perching there for atleast half an hour, and her paw pads, thick and rough from years of running and climbing, had started to get sore. She flicked her tail impatiently and waited. She kept an eye on the stag, willing it to walk closer to where she sat. If she was lucky, it would come right under her and she could just drop on it, hopefully killing it by landing on his neck or spine. Less bloody, and Honey liked that. Less blood meant she didn’t have to a shower and waste time in her evening. 

Suddenly, the stag started to wander closer to where Honey hid. When the deer stopped directly under Honey, she lept down. Before the animal had a chance to run, she had sunk her claws into it’s neck. Honey knew that it wasn’t enough to do damage, but she needed a firm grip. The buck lept and shook it’s body, trying to get rid of the death riding it’s back. Before it had a chance to, Honey bit down on it’s neck, and she felt the warm blood cover her chest and muzzle. The stag crumpled to the ground and Honey stood up, stretching her back and legs. The rest of the herd had sprinted away, and she stood alone with the body of the buck. Honey knew she should head back home soon, before flies started to converge on her and her prize, but instead she sat down in the base of a tree. She was panting, her tounge lolling out between her pink colored teeth. Did I ever look like that deer? She asked herself. Was I ever that fearful?