In the brush, you can’t see her silhouette as she glides along.

Below the grass, she hovers and waits.

The stalks swaying in the breeze as she pauses to take in the horizon.

Her eyes never leaving her prey as she haunts him with her shadows.

Believing it is only a myth, he grows complacent in the quiet.

Letting down his guard, his head lowers for a rest, never realizing his mistake.

Suddenly, she pounces from the mist and charges his serenity.

He attempts an escape, but the moment has passed.

She has him in her paws, and the pride closes in to bring her added strength.

Fight though he may, the battle is over before it even began.

All because he grew comfortable in the midst of her silence.

Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.

1 Peter 5:8