The Perspective of a Lion- 215

Squating as low in the thick Savanah grass as I can, my shining yellow eyes fixed on the black and white stripes of my prey. I can already taste the tough juicy meat in my mouth, so sensual, so mind tuingling. I can hardly bear another minute of waiting, but I neet to stand my ground, prancing now could end the hunt. Looking silently to my left and right I appear to be alone. I know that statment to be a lie though, because my entire pride is positioned carfully and steadily in locations of the thick brush.
Once the herd starts to sense the difference in the atomspeher we start to play the game. this "game" we play is not just a chasing game, but a carefully planned set of rules. Sort of like chess. once the adult zebras hear the tiniest snap of grass the game begins. the first launch is made but missed, startling the herd. then we try to break their defense, throwing ourselves in random areas of the blinding colors. Once we get ourselves in and they're broken up, we seek for the weakest of the herd which tpically is the elderly and the young. After we have the weakest attacked we quickly take them by the scruffs of thier neck (or anywhere else we can grab them.) We return to the waiting cubs and begin the violent, unforgivable feast.