On a warm, summer night the scent of pine, wild thyme and eucalyptus hung heavily in the air. It was late. A hunter’s moon had been riding high since early evening yet the moonlight had only now, many hours later, vanqiushed the last fiery embers of the dying solstice daylight in the western sky and shafted triumphantly through the forest, lighting the secret paths by which the assassin stalked her target.
She moved slowly, stealthily, feeling evey branch and shrub, secure in her intimate knowledge of the trees, the paths, the scents and the instincts of that prey. It was all familiar and she had a job to do, something she had done so many times before and would have to do many times again in the future. There was no choice. In the distance she heard briefly the echo of music but ignored it. Now was not the time for such diversions – there was work to be done.
A gentle breeze ruffled the treetops, but attention remained focussed on the target, now only a short distance ahead and as yet unaware of the suddenly growing threat. She moved forward again, silently, using the dark shrubs and folds of the land to disguise her presence. And there he was, finally, crouched panting in the corner of the glade, scared and wide-eyed, exhausted by the relentless pursuit. She relaxed slightly. Everthing was almost perfect – the moonlight highlighting the heaving ribs and the fear of the target; the remoteness; the silence; the vulnerability.
But something was not quite right. Something was different. What was that on the breeze? A feral tomcat, perhaps. or something larger? And where had that music come from? No matter. Despite being unsettled this was too easy an opportunity to miss. She drew a deep breath and crept forward yet again.
She crouched, ready for the lethal strike, when suddenly there was a blur in her peripheral vision and a terminal scream from the rabbit. The wolf lifted its reward and looked at her, before slipping into the shadows again. A few moments later, a ghostly, musical howl echoed throught the trees and the she-wolf set off after him.
OZ
Boadicea's Chariot 
Ah, I think this is most beautifully described, Oz, and I loved it!
So, she’s hooked?
Jeez, Araminta, Am I really that transparent?
OZ
Yep! 🙂
Oh bolleaux! Perhaps creative writiing is not for me, then?
For sale! One small essay. Slightly stained
😦
OZ
Oz you aren’t part of the Belgariad books by David Eddings are you? 😉
like the story.
I even had to Google ‘Belgariad books’ and still I don’t understand.
Sob! I can’t do this stuff!
OZ
Stay with it, Oz. 😉
Thanks OZ! I enjoyed this.
Oops. Am I allowed to say that now…?
Claire – If you wish.
Sniffle!
OZ
No. There’s a job for you in the Judiciary.
Ho Ho OZ,
We both chose an assassin theme then?
Glad to see things are going well for you and the she-wolf, and yes it is that obvious. 🙂
I will now remove my entry, sat next to this one it looks like a very poor effort. Sniff.
Don’t do that Ferret – I haven’t had a chance to read it yet – I’m running ever harder on the same spot at the moment trying to keep up here! 🙂
no ferret! It is NOT! I liked yours so please keep it in!
I’m glad I don’t have to judge these entries – good story Oz.. 🙂
I’m enjoying reading them – love the summery nature imagery in all entries so far, so keep em coming folks 🙂
I wuz just kiddin’ guys.
As pooh as it is, I have to stand by my entry. I wuz simply saying how much better the wolfs story was. 😉
Don’t be daft Ferret! I liked yours too.
I always feel like that, incidentally after posting a story. That’s why I tend to post and run when it comes to the short story contests on MyT!
Loverly stuff, OZ
Ferret – If you dare remove your story Ethel gets the co-ordinates and don’t think you could escape the Wrath of Eff. 🙂 She managed to find this ‘ghost of the forest’, so tracking down a small furry mustelid would be a piece of cake.
OZ
Hoo Hoo OZ,
Funny you should mention that.
I am costantly receiving junk mail along the lines of “Blah left you a message on Facebook”. Hardly likely to catch me out since I am not on it.
Yesterday I received one saying “Ethel has left you a message on Facebook”. All the fur on me back shot up. 🙂
Claire, I’m going to read all the stories when you do. Then I won’t be able to wish I’d just zapped mine! 😮
Janus: I’ve already read the entries so far!
Ferret: I’m so sick of those Facebook messages clogging up my email. SO and so is now friends with so and so…Actually I think they were trying to bring a facebook feel to new MyT with all that friend bizness.
I don’t do Facebook either. I had a quick look and realised it was all about social acceptance and impressing whoever turned up to read it. “250 friends” – gimme a break.
I got so sick of these Friendship messages I deleted my entire account, I’m sure they can get along without me 😦
I was also surprised to find messages from MyT in everyone of my email accounts, even the ones that had been deleted by the mods got a message 🙂
how do you delete account on fb? sorry typing with 1 hand!
Oz, the Belgariad series is Science Fantasy and the Belgarath (a wizard type guy) turns into a wolf when he wants to run off with his mate also a wolf and do wolfie things.
As for Face book what a loada crap.
people put too many personal things on there that are looked at by recruiters and who then turn them down for jobs.
Evenin’ all. Rick #27 – Just got back from escorting the New She-Wolf to a viewing of England-Slovenia match on The Bar’s new flat-screen. God, what a nightnare that was – the match I hasten to add, not the NSW who was, as ever, absolutely delightful in every respect even though, being Slavic, I suspect she might have been harbouring a secret hankering for t’other side.
Thanks for the heads up on the Belgarath. I am ashamed to say I had never previously heard of this series so I must go and read more. That is the good thing about this site – always a chance to expand your knowledge (and anyway I’m all in favour of running off and doing wolfey things.) 🙂
I’ve never touched MyFace, Spacebook, Twatter or any of that rubbish. I don’t even contribute on the sadly lamented MyT any more apart from occasionally poking a stick into ‘Emmett’s cage, which is something every self-respecting gentleman ought to do once in a while. Too busy experiencing real life to bother with some throbbing tosspot whose lights you would feel constrained to punch out in any half-decent bar in the Land within five minutes of meeting them.
OZ
I suspect you’re right on fbook. My mum’s being saying same for ages as well. It’s a bad habit – a bit like arguing on MyT used to be!
I’ve become ‘friends’ with a lot of old school mates, who I probably wouldn’t recognise from adam if I actually saw them now. A couple of them have a habt of posting really stupid/embarrassing status updates. Then there was the ex colleague who bad mouthed the ex boss the other week – in full view, I guess of all the other folk we used to work with. It’s getting to be a bit of a liability really..
right, well, now I’ve got that off my chest, I’m off to check my status updates 😉
I like it, OZ. It’s atmospheric and has the coveted old surprise ending. No need for embarrassment. So now she’s chasing you, eh?