Blade. Bullet. Animals being murdered.
Slaughtered in their prime, for their fur or bones.
Patterned coats, either striped or spotted.
101 Dalmations
Tigers stalked through the wild. Tracked by the eye of the sniper and the greed of Man. Brilliant base orange contrasting with intense black stripes. Sunlight glistens off the big cat's arsenal of a mouth. Swords, daggers, knives are not enough to protect themselves
from keeping the floor warm in the houses of the bourgeoisie.
A snow leopard gracefully jumps. From boulder to rock. Moving so quickly that their beauty becomes blurred. They're still crystal clear in the eyes of Man. More rare than rubies. More precious than pearls. More expensive than emeralds.
Skinless corpses of big cats are decomposing in a pile of bodies, as humans parade round in their stolen fur.
Is this the height of fashion?
*Author's Notes*
A subject I feel very strongly about. I decided to write this in a relatively, regular structure. I realise it's a little short, but I didn't want to stretch it out for fear of losing its effect.
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