She hears the crunch of leaves under hooves – not paws, not claws, hooves. She's an old girl and she's heard plenty of hoof-fall in her day, especially in this particular part of her forest. Most of her dense tree cover overlapped coincides with a kingdom made of local the equus and their....pets..
Her tail flicks without a sound and her eyes steady out the pitter-patter of her moving meal. It is quiet far away, following frogs at first and then birds. These birds follow the almost soundless murmur of her purring under her breath. They move toward it with their dancing and their displaying, enchanted with themselves and the undetectable sound. When the prey bounds ever forward with her curiosities swallowing her common sense, the cat leaps down onto a bed of last years leaves. She breaks a stick on the way down and when she lands...her body freezes, even her breathing ceases to make any stir at all.
Drip, drop, drip...drip...drip..
The only sound filling the air is the sounds between predator and prey. The gentle whisper of a broken breeze sweeping the trees and the rain scattering it's way to the jungle floor.
Drip..drop..