Electric

At night in the prairies, on the savanna, the plow harrowed land, or the scrub and brush of sparse hunting grounds, creatures are illumined by a shimmering fear. Trepidation ignites dark niches; blood shines. Fox and rabbit watch in their sleep, in their tunnels; both sense each other through a voltage of fur. They are electric, those that are hid by a shaded moonlight are lit by a light that consumes itself. Eyes are flashlights, minds openly hunt or hole up, all watch for the dire glimmer of danger. Closely concealed or at a distance all follow the trace of a searching scent, all share the body-heat of the chase, or the quick pounce of a breath-snatching find.