Writing Prompt No. 35
The figure was running weaving in and out of the trees jumping small rocks and forest litter that happened to be in its way.
Their footsteps were silent on the soft, mossy ground. Their breath was becoming heavy and laboured. They were tiring with the effort. Soon they will fall from exhaustion.
The deer startle from the sounds and flee through the forest, their hooves hammering as they move to higher ground. The lone wolf stops to gather himself. His belly is empty of food. His pack left him behind weeks ago and he has become weak and hungry. His fur is matted and losing the thick luxurious warmth that protects him from the cold. He stands and waits. Listening. Watching. The deer are fast but there’s a small one whose mother is young and inexperienced. They’ll move back down into the trees once they feel safe. He will need to be patient. He will have to wait as long as it takes. He lies down with his head up. Through the branches, the herd are walking but alert to him. They can smell the predator. They know to be careful. The wolf lifts his nose into the air as soft, fat flakes of snow drift down through the darkness. The afternoon light is fading. He knows he will have to wait now until dawn.
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