Snow Stalking

23 01 2012

The night is cold and snowy, just how he likes it.  He had been tracking his prey for two days, but he knows that the ideal conditions for the hunt will not last much longer.  The type of prey he is hunting is cunning and usually travels in herds.  There is safety in the herd and for good reason.  His prey is dangerous; two or more of them together would be able to over match him.  He has to be careful.

In the light of the day, he had tracked a herd of them to the top of a steep hill, using his camouflage to keep hidden while he watched them cavort in the snow.  Several of the larger ones looked especially dangerous; he decided to steer clear of them and focus his attention on the smaller specimens.  One or two of them had seemed hobbled, but they never left the protective influence of the group.

Now that it’s dark, he makes his way back up the trail leading to the hill.  It was well used which makes it easy for him to hide his tracks.  He settles into a position from which he can watch several dens.  He feels certain that one of the creatures he is hunting will make an appearance in the moonlight . . . alone.

He considers lighting his pipe as the hours proceed forward to lessen the boredom, but realizes that he hasn’t got a light.  Besides, the glow of his corn-cob pipe could give his position away to his prey.

Finally, he sees movement out of the corner of his small, coal dark eyes.  The hunt is afoot.  The creature he sees is small, but moves with a confidence that would soon betray it.  The hunter follows at a safe distance, grateful for the snowy ground that muffles his approach.

The prey is oblivious to the cold-hearted killer that stalks him in the dark.  The waning moonlight gives just enough light to cast a contrast between the black of the hunters silk hat and the white of his face that would chill the prey’s blood as cold as the hunters if he saw him. 

Suddenly, the prey hears a noise and stops walking.  He turns slowly toward the hunter but does not see him.  The hunter has learned that this type of prey does cannot see him if he stands completely still.  But he questions the doctrine in his mind as the prey seems to look directly at him.  Time is frozen as they look deep into one another’s eyes.  But it is an illusion, the prey turns back to his charted course as if not seeing the hunter at all.

The diminutive prey stops at the top of the hill as if to consider its steepness.  The hunter knows that his time is now as his ice-cold heart beats within his chest.  Thumpity thump thump, thumpity thump thump.  He puts his hand to his bosom and pulls out several round projectiles.  He lets loose in a fusillade of snowballs, pleased to see the wide round eyes of the snow-clothes bundled child regarding his attacker.

The attack finishes as quickly as it starts with the child lying in a pile of snow.  A laugh escapes from the depths of Frosty the hunter’s snowy middle as he hurries on his way.  “I’ll be back again someday,” he yells as he escapes over the hills of snow.

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23 01 2012
David Montgomery

Me Likey

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