The sand beneath her feet is hard and packed tightly from a lifetime of pawfalls;
charging and pouncing and stalking.
She’s regal as her shoulder blades rotate like the wheels and gears of a train.
Her golden coat is dirty from hunting and preying and playing but still it shines in the desert winds.
She’s a monster who can only fight her nature and die or give in to the beast and hate herself.
Hate herself and live.
Her eyes give her away;
they’re big and wet; sad and beautiful.
She’s trapped inside her predator - inside her nature
which feeds on her weakness: her hunger
and so she lives.
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