His breathing slowed until it was almost imperceptible, as if he himself were a patch of moss, a strip of bark on this ancient tree's trunk.
He no longer made any observation that might be sensed as "locking on," letting that invisible, lethal pressure rapidly dissipate.
Sure enough, after a few suffocating minutes of waiting, the predator's massive body gradually calmed its agitation.
It lowered its ferocious head to drink again, but the rhythm was clearly much more hurried than before; it gulped down a few mouthfuls and then swiftly turned, its steps still heavy, disappearing soundlessly into the dense, impenetrable Shadow of the forest's depths.
Legolas's taut nerves finally allowed him to softly exhale the breath that had been suppressed for so long:
"Its vigilance is absurdly high… It seems the final killing operation must be absolutely flawless. Any tiny mistake could render all prior efforts useless—or mean instant Death."
...
