My tiger writing:
A lean body stands motionless watching and waiting. A slow
chuffing sound comes from the belly of the beast. Her ears prick back listening
to the roaring sound of the jungle, suddenly everything is quiet. Her black and
orange stripes move up and down and she crouches into the low grass camouflaging
herself from passing predators. Her long silky whiskers twitch with frustration.
Her hart pounds, then her predator instinct kicks in. She races through the
jungle her large retractable claws swiping at trees. She stops, she feels the
world waiting for her she can’t do it. She knows that if she doesn’t she will
die. She never thought that killing could be so hard. Her canine teeth hang out
thirsty for the taste of blood. She is the Queen. She hunts to survive she is a
predator, she is a killer, she is savage.
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