He swooped down, his hunger outweighing his caution.

He brushed the treetops and his suspicion was confirmed – a young doe. It had no time to escape, for he’d already killed it.

He’d been born into harsher conditions, and to him, this was luxury.

He ate enough to satisfy himself, then lifted the carcass and flew towards his cave. After placing it inside, he again exited. He hadn’t seen the light of day for some time, and this expedition had been far too short. Besides, he needed the exercise.

He lifted off, then covered as much distance as possible before slowing down.

Then, he heard the voice behind him. “Well, it’s you!”

He did not turn; he knew the voice – it belonged to them. He shot into the sky, gaining altitude as quickly as possible. He was equally matched with his chaser, and he knew that the only way to escape was not to use strength, but strategy.

So he continued his flight, finally settling into a fast jet stream. He chanced a look behind him and saw that his chaser was directly behind him. Because he’d moved first, he had the advantage for now, but jet stream flight was exhausting.

In terms of endurance, his chaser would tire after him; he hand’t had a constant source of food for several weeks, while his chaser was probably fully fed.

What he should do, then, was use evasive techniques to ensure that his chaser lost sight of him. Then, he’d attack the chaser while he was unaware – he wouldn’t be able to hold out in a full fight.

So, he suddenly dropped into a slower jet stream, causing his chaser to rocket in front of him. He angled downwards, then directed his fall towards his cave.

Again he looked behind him – his chaser would spot him any moment. He burst through the treetops, several branches tearing at his scales.

Ignoring the pain, he crashed through the stone which covered his cave, causing him several scrapes.

He turned abruptly to replace the stone, then thought hard. He was sure the chaser had seen him enter the cave, so how to proceed?

He knew the chaser would be diving full speed towards the ground which covered his cave, and this gave him an idea.

He instinctively acted, razing the ceiling to the ground. The weight of the ceiling crashed onto the chaser, disappearing under the rocks and dirt. He knew this would break several of the chaser’s bones, but would leave him alive.

He wouldn’t take this chance: he searched through the rubble, quickly finding the chaser, who was slowly standing.

He placed his claws against the chaser’s neck, aware of the expression of horror which the chaser wore.

He placed his claws against the chaser’s neck, aware of the expression of horror which the chaser wore.

“Don’t kill me. Please!” were the chaser’s last words before he keeled over, raising a cloud of dust.

Well. It was time to fix the ceiling.