(Page 1 of 2) The Hunted by Brenda Pernack
 (1 rating)
|
SUMMARY: Entry for the November Flash Fiction Contest. "Hunger" Naïve creature.
He crouched upon the top of the embankment, standing sentinel against the dappling shadow from the spiky treetops, and watched her. She moved slowly, but deft, her assurance swelling with each passing moment. Another night almost gone, another bellyful of skittering insects. She parted the tall grasses with her tiny hands and searched while he waited for the moon to rise ever higher and eat away at the long shadows that crawled across the floor of the clearing.
Not that he needed much help from the moon-he was well practiced in the art of the hunt and could spot the smallest movement from his perch on high-but he worked well under the shroud of darkness. The closer the shadows drew to her, the better his chances; and, having spent three days watching her while the hunger clawed at his belly, he was no longer willing to take much of a chance.
All the same, he stood statue-still and watched, mindful of her cautious confidence. He reminded himself that others could be doing the same. The ones that did not possess his abilities to soar upon the wind would skulk and slither upon the ground, unafraid of him, but aware nonetheless. Lacking the strength of his larger enemies, he couldn't very well pick upon them, so he had become lightning quick, and sharp-eyed.
Just beyond the cluster of wildflower that choked the northernmost corner of the clearing, she disappeared into the foliage and shadow, to overturn the rocks there and raid the holes. There is where she would find the most bountiful array of insect and night crawlers, and where she would be the most distracted.
He knew by the tiny sway of the grasses that she was trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, knew that she had spotted him a couple of times before. Still, she had stayed, choosing to risk her safety in favor of the tasty morsels of her own prey.
He took flight then, swooping skillfully over the lacy canopy to settle upon a branch of a needled ancient, directly above her. He had still to determine the right moment, to let go of restraint and dive for the kill. Not yet; she was still far too wary. Instead, he stilled as she moved, her tail twitching with obvious delight as she unearthed a particularly busy nest of hard-skinned creatures.
A muted crackle from beyond the tree line caused her to snap her head up suddenly. He cocked his as well, listening for size and shape of the ominous. Scanning the darkness, he willed his eyes to adjust. The shadows lost their darkest depths and rudimentary outlines began to take form; the rotted log, dripping with moss and overgrowth, the saplings that had begun to thrive under the eye of their parent trees, the arms of the groundcover vines that choked back growth of a multitude of various bush and scrub-each plant and primordial landmark that he had come to know so well, remained undisturbed, but for whatever creature that lurked there.
He saw it then; the shadow that shifted upon fallen leaf and broken branches, offset by the flash of a yellowed eye peeking through the low-hung arms of a decaying Cypress.
| 
