Another car whizzed past. Peta Rabbit recoiled from it and smelled Tod Fox.
Exhaust fumes borne on the wind of passing cars had masked his approach
and now he had her leg.
Tod Fox liked to play with his food, as cats do.
She kicked out, losing her footing in the process. He took the opportunity to adjust his grip.
She kicked out, losing her footing in the process. He took the opportunity to adjust his grip. She righted herself too late, missing her chance to escape.
His jaws tightened.
The body in his jaws sagged.
Fox relaxed his grip to balance the limp weight for travelling… but Rabbit was gone.
She’d felt his jaws slacken. Before his teeth left her fur, she launched.
blood pounded through her veins, masking the roar of the car that scattered the dust of her passing.
Tod Fox was still looking around for his disappeared plaything.
Underground, Peta Rabbit inspected her wounds – hardly more than a bald patch. A close shave.