The Battle

(by my Daughter *, based on work of Erin Hunter)

A half moon glowed,
On smooth granite boulders,
Turning them silver.
The silence was broken,
Only by the ripple of water;
The whisper of trees,
In the forest beyond.
In the shadows,
There was a stirring.
From all around,
Crept dark, stealthy shapes.
Unsheathed claws glinted;
Wary eyes flashed.
Then,
As if on a silent signal,
The rocks were alive,
With wrestling, screeching cats.

* ~age 10