A small, long-billed bird scampers up a skystalk, perching at the base of one of its massive blades. It dips its beak into the tiny pool of water that collected between the stem and leaf during last night's rainstorm - one which nearly toppled this very plant. It looks up just in time to spot a sliver of sun beginning to shine above the horizon. A gust of wind shakes the woodlouse-grass, prompting the kiwi to grasp the plant's culm with its flexible digits. At less than a hundred grams, it doesn't have to worry about being injured from a fall, but there are many small predators at ground level that make it wary of spending any time there. It feels a weak tremor in the ground beneath its unsteady roost, its eyes perking up in response. It knows this sensation well. Over the hill comes one, then two, then a hundred or more large birds. These gregarious Kiwizelles are the region's main grazers, though today they pass by the bountiful grasses as they flee. The smaller bird, though, awaits the swarm of mosquitoes it knows will be following the herd. Its thin, graceful beak lashes out at one after another, flicking side to side in the blink of an eye. If it catches even a small fraction of the flies that buzz past it in the next few minutes, it can feed itself for days. Unfortunately, this is not to be.

Just as the Skeeter-Snapper (a cousin of the pillbirds) turns to pluck another mosquito out of the air, it finds itself at eye level with the biggest and fastest hunter that calls this biome home. Without a moment's hesitation, the Terror Kiwi (Aepyapteryx ferox) grabs the tiny ratite in its sharp, deep-set beak, tosses it into the air, and swallows it in a single gulp. The solitary hunter looks around; if it was so inclined, it could continue chasing the Cursoriapteryx herd, possibly catching a full meal in addition to this little appetizer. It decides to turn back; its belly is still somewhat full from yesterday's catch, and it knows the herbivores will be back soon enough. This descendant of Apteryx apterovenator swam back to the mainland from the Gecko Isles sometime around 800,000 years ago, establishing populations across Panapterra. Aepyapteryx now dominates the woodlouse-grasslands, hunting both large and small game with little competition. Herds like the one it terrorized today are a staple of its diet, though smaller pseudoforest-dwelling terror kiwis specialize more heavily on skeeter-snappers and other small-bodied prey. 

The terror kiwi wipes its bill against its side, takes a final glance at the herd as it escapes, and walks confidently back the way it came. It reaches a nest dug into a patch of bare earth, greets its mate, and hears the sound of a chick peeping to get its attention. It quickly regurgitates a sludge of half-digested skeeter-snapper for the baby to eat. It ruffles its head feathers at its partner; he returns the gesture and the two briefly press their foreheads against one another. The hunter curls up beside her family, and all three drift off to sleep. Her leg kicks happily as she dreams, imagining herself slaughtering kiwizelles all night long.