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Hunters Gather.

By Ygraine Rodgers

By Ygraine RodgersPublished 3 years ago 3 min read
1
Hunters Gather.
Photo by Roger Starnes Sr on Unsplash

The prey had been too sure of itself - too secure of its place in a world which had been lightened somewhat by the brightening dawn. That had always been his time. The time in-between night and day; of quiet and solitude, where all was still and caution lay forgotten. This time had been no different.

*

One fragile thing, unknowingly seen, and he; the only watcher. No other eyes save his and those of his intended, though without ever the two gazes meeting.

The sun’s light reached above the tree line while he sat vigilant. A shadow forest appeared and stretched out across the dirt road that wove its way some miles north and south to the side of the woodland he had chosen to utilise, its dense mass obscured the horizon to the east. He watched as his victim made its way along that snaking pathway, not sensing its danger. Still, he waited.

Recently, he had started to test himself; to establish how fine a line he could draw between death and escape; success or failure. The margin of error he allowed himself growing closer to the limit with each new pursuit.

The trail of thought that led him to question himself had begun with a realisation: The game had become too easy. So he had started at first to delay the strike, if only until his quarry sensed his presence - but after finding himself equal to that challenge he had started to wait long and longer moments after prey had bolted - and only once victory was no longer certain would he begin the chase. This pushing at the boundaries of his proficiency was vital. There was no room for weakness in this line of work.

As time elapsed, their proximity to each other became so convenient that it made his breath catch. Impatient now to make his presence known he made a small, deliberate movement. The prize stiffened at once. It stopped and sniffed the air. He felt its sudden alarm and with this, he felt the thrill of the impending act.

Quicker than anticipated, the hunted fled. Any confidence he felt fled with it. His instinct to follow threatened to overwhelm him. It was an agony to wait, to endure, to force himself to stillness, to deny the insistent urge of his doubt and instead stay the course, to expose himself to the risk of failure.

Just a moment longer. Then...

Release. Glorious release of intent and focus. He was swift in his ambition, so swift. Anxiety and self- doubt withdrawing with every inch of gained ground. He felt the certainty of his dominance envelop him and as he finally plunged what was sharp into what was soft and felt what was whole become broken; he revelled in his nature.

*

That was then but this is now.

A way away from the stretch of road and the shadow forest, a roughly built barn sits next to an abandoned farm house, once fine but now derelict and forgotten by all but the wildest of living things.

Within the barn sits a man, unkempt and exhausted; his breathing is heavy, his eyes are half closed. Perched high amid the barns rotting rafters sits an owl, handsome, proud and quite unimpressed by this show of fatigue in the man. In unison they hide from the scrutiny of the sun, though perhaps for different reasons. They study each other in a silence broken only by the faint rustle of leaves from an apple tree outside.

The dead thing that lies near is also regarded, without any remorse, but not without reverence. It is after all a tasty morsel - a fresh delight.

The not so fresh of previous endeavours have been taken already to the safe place. But this newest proof of prowess will remain here a while, close to the hunter. Treasures are not to be hidden until darkness again has her way with the world. So for now, he allows himself time to taste the relish of his triumph.

There will be no moon tonight.

Man watches owl and owl watches man.

fiction
1

About the Creator

Ygraine Rodgers

I’m just a girl, daydreaming my life away.

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