Monday, May 21, 2012

(5.20.2012) The Hunt


She hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet here she was, frantically running for her life. If she stopped, or slowed for any reason, it would mean a very painful end. 
Her hair whipped in her face, the wind whistling as it passed across the ridges in her ear. She looked over her shoulder and there it was. 
It’s ears were flattened to it’s pointed skull, eyes small — narrowed. There was no friendly lolling of the tongue, no wagging of the tail. 
One hundred and ten pounds of pure devastation pursued her. 
She tripped, let loose a scream. 
It was upon her. 

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