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</div><br/><b><span style="font-family:Fredericka the Great"><span style="font-size: 22px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">Erin Crowley </span></span></span></b><br/><br/>White and black that was nearly all he saw as he padded slowly though the eerie quiet forest. Large paws left their marks in the light dusting of snow that began to stick to the leave strewn floor. It didn't give the world around him the same refreshing scent as the summer rains that drenched the lands relieving it of the insufferable heat that attempted to choke the breath out of you. Curved ears swiveled sharply left and right as he moved through the underbrush in search of his prey for the evening.<br/><br/>Erin hadn't liked the idea of having to leave his mountain home in order to find prey. Winter hadn't hit yet and much of the prey was on the move trying to prepare -- like himself-- for the cold harsh nights ahead that would leave it nearly impossible for anyone and anything to transverse the treacherous path  from the valley in the mountains to the outside world beyond their high peaks.  Pausing slightly he held his breath and listened. His large honey blue eyes stared transfixed on the creek that cut its way from the mountains to the lowlands he now stalked. Prey normally could be found easily at this time of the night near such areas. Bushes grew in vast numbers as did the trees providing a perfect nesting area for the night.<br/><br/>The wind picked up from the south bringing with it a scent that caused him to breath it in. Blood and fear. It alone drew the mountain lion's attention causing him to veer off course and head in the direction it came from. Perhaps he could gain and easy meal after all thought the feline while the sliver of human that remained told him to tread softly. Instincts were often something not to be ignored. They meant the difference between life and death in these lands.