Harder, Better

The forest moaned with snapping branches and crumbling leaves. There was not a voice to be heard, not a mating call or a bloodthirsty howl. There was only the chase. Nothing could match him for speed, for he seemed to appear amongst the trees ahead. Nothing could rival his strength, as great oaks toppled before his charge. Nothing could match him for dexterity, as he weaved through the forest like a mist.He should win. The only question was how much energy he spent in doing it. He was confident, he hadn't hunted in days. He was prideful, he had chosen a wicked prey. He was tired, and never had one seen such a reversal as when he ceased his howl.