I traveled through the woods,
as stealthily as a fox.
Searching for some food.
Be it raw or in a box.

My fur is a dark red,
scarlet almost.
I am desperate to be fed,
so I'm quiet like a ghost.

I see a wild rabbit,
sitting in the grass.
Eating its last bit,
of crabgrass.

I bound through the land,
searching for my prey.
Traveling over sand,
my hunger will not delay.

When a gunshot is heard,
and i go flying to the west.
My fate can not be deterred,
for I have been shot in the chest.