Behemoth

Its jade coloured eyes shone gallantly,
Reflecting the milky white beam of the moonlight,
Its feet moved prudently upon the moors,
Each step complemented its elegance.

The village on the cynical horizon,
Lay odiously underneath the night,
The citizens separated their swords from their sheaths,
As a creature was expected.

Cloaked in the darkness,
Ostentatious in its discretion,
Precise in its scrutiny,
It sat and waited in the hunting ground.

It was not invisible however,
Its foolish complacency had located its tail under the moonlight,
Its back towards the villagers,
It was a considerably effortless target.

The villagers approached perfunctory,
Rigid from fear and foreboding,
Frantically and frenzied they slashed the glacial air,
With the prospect of obtaining the creature's prized hide.

Perseverance prevailed,
The incisive metallic twang perforated the midnight air,
Estranged from its cadaver, the head impacted furiously upon the ground,
In disturbed unison, the people exclaimed: 'It's a cat!'

Blood on his hands, the killer took his own life,
The women and children wept,
The men bowed their guilty heads,
Who would have thought such a well meaning animal could cause so much stress?

The men suddenly heard some heavy, morose footsteps...
It was not over.
The expected creature pounced upon the pathetic, abhorrent party,
They had endured a fate worse than the feline.