The walla flinched at the faintest distant sound. Distant as it was, it was entirely too familiar. She and one other stood at attention at the base of the territory. Such presence was enough to assure her that she was, indeed, not imagining things. Another predator lurked in the grass, and it was not armed with talon, tooth, or claw. The mere thought returned every ounce of fear she'd carried since the day she was destined to be a guardian.

Another sound clicked, the faintest little strike of metal. But it was deemed threatening enough for the two walla to duck into a readied stance. Her aid fluttered her wings, a clear sign of stress. She was ready to bound.

After a third and final click, she did. And she left her friend behind.

There was struggle. There was darkness. There was noise. And with it came the pure fear and despair of an animal caught in the hunter's trap.