The Hunt

Photograph courtesy of Barbara W. Beacham, (c) 2009

She was unaware that she was being watched.  The young doe loped around the field munching on the grass, oblivious.

The wolf was stalking her prey from a nearby copse, hiding until she was ready to make her move.  A rabbit was a meagre meal, for sure, but she had cubs to think about and it had been a lean season so far.

She prowled closer and the rabbit paused sniffing the air, but after a moment continued her frolicking.  The wind was in the wolf’s favour, and she was only a dozen feet from her prey now.  It’s burrow was at the other side of the field.  This would be over in moments.

The crosshairs settled on the wolf’s head as she was about to pounce, the hunter chuckling to himself that this was too easy for such a fine trophy.  But then he had been careful, and she was unaware that she was being watched.

This piece of flash fiction was in response to a prompt from Mondays Finish the Story.  Check it out if you fancy trying something similar.mondays-finish-the-story


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