painted black, white and
yellow. In a struggle with
herself. Hunting for her next
meal, scraping by on scraps of

bones and *** appeal. Not a lap to
lay her head or a four-post queen
size bed. Ears sticking out
like pegs, not the type that humps

men's legs. Scouring the scene,
hungry and lean. Living life on
razor's edge. She cannot be
domesticated. Her eyes are wide,

pupils dilated. Likes the chase,
grassland and plains, the open
space. Wind whipping like cream through
tangled hair, danger lurking in the air.