Selfish

"Ok, so there's a guy out behind the watershed, I'm sure I saw someone sneaking around the barn and I could hear somebody hiding in the empty silo."

"How much time do we have left?"

"Half an hour."

"Crap."

"My thoughts exactly."

"Ok, how are we going to do this?"

A sigh. "Uh.."

Crickets in the silence that followed took over the dialogue.

"Ok, what about this? Somebody is in charge of locking up the silo, do that then get the heck out."

"I can do that."

"Ok, Bobby, make it tight. Somebody else...two somebody elses take out the guy at the barn and secure that position."

"Yeah, we got that, Wyatt."

A nod. "Alright." A deep, steeling breath. "The rest of you, with me. Come on."

They moved. One dark body going north, two going northeast and four going northwest. The patch of hay they had just occupied glistened in the moonlight. One misstep could be heard, then silence.

Bobby crept up to the silo. His eyes flickered back and forth between the concrete pillar, the open space to his left and the shelter of the barn to his right. Nothing moved. He listened for breath, for shifting. As soon as his quarry was confirmed he attacked. Flying through the jagged hole in the wall. The hardest part of his appendage came down on the base of the neck. His quarry fell without a sound.

The position his enemy had once held was now his. Bobby looked it over, pleased with the perspective it gave him of field. But it was indefensible. There were too many blind spots. He could not use the silo. Slicing into his enemy he ate the heart while it was still warm, then left the carcass and disappeared into the darkness of the shadowy yard.

Wyatt led his small group towards the goal. Moving quickly and silently through t he shadows holding, then moving again. His head came up, immediately alarming those with him and halting their movement. He pointed to his left and right spreading out his team. As they settled, nodding their readiness to him he focused once again on the area. Listening with the intent of a wild animal desperate for the taste of fresh meat.

All was quiet.

He motioned that they move in, as one, eyes open and ready for anything. The group rose, a solid fence of bodies and moved forward, each step a fortifying promise of victory.
Passing through the dangerous and open field as one, strong willed hard-ass unit.

A sound, like a bullet, broke through them. A body flew in taking down one of their own and the ground was suddenly thrashing, growling and moaning. They could smell blood, fresh in the air.

The noise rose, Wyatt's group joining in the fight.

Then the farmer came from the kitchen door. Freedom, food, warmth suddenly made available. Wyatt gave a warning howl to his mates then scampered through the open door without a second thought.

Cats are, after all, very selfish creatures.