He waits not for the hunt, but for the world to forget he is there.
He moves through the deep dark jungle of his own silence, muscles coiled like midnight springs. schwarzer panther
And when it does— he is everywhere. Would you like a version in German as well, or a different tone (more fierce, more mystical, or shorter)? He waits not for the hunt, but for
Moonlight slips off his shoulders— a liquid shadow, a ghost carved from obsidian. He waits not for the hunt