Over fields and woods she flies, as silent as a falling snow flake. Her bright, sharp eyes scan the ground, looking for her prey.
She soars and swoops, seeing everything, hearing the slightest whisper through the long grass below.
She spies a mouse, weaving it's way through the forest of green. The tiny creature sees her, it's eyes as bright and shiny as ripe blackberries.
It runs for it's life, as she grows nearer, ever nearer. On and on it runs, it's tiny legs scuttling. It is within sight of it's home.
The owl grows larger swooping down, it's talons extended before it. Reaching, reaching for it's supper.
Nothing else exists in the lives of the owl and mouse but the instinct to survive. The world around them stands still.
The mouse is within inches of it's home, it's breath comes faster, with a hope renewed. The owl races towards it! Who will win?
The mouse reaches within itself, finding one last reserve of energy and it leaps forward, to safety.
The owl grasps at thin air, lets out a shriek and flies back into the inky black of the sky, once more hunting for it's next meal.
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