It knew it was dreaming even though it didn’t usually carry the shape into slumber—the ground felt too springy, the grasses whisking past didn’t sting its muzzle or whip its eyes as they tended to do in reality. It gave into the sensation of running, anyway, enjoying the briskness of the wind and the luring scent of something warm and frightened. Rabbit, its mind knew, and the memory of taste and hunt spurred powerful legs into more focused movement. The little animal would be no match for it, no matter how quick or agile the rabbit could be, and the chase just made the end result more delightful.
Veering, in desperate plunges, from one side to the next, they ran faster, harder, closer, until a stretch in the ground cover grew sparse, and the moonlight above offered the perfect illuminati
