The Fugitive

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THE FUGITIVE

The darkness enveloped the woodland, the heavy mist, drifting in great plumes. The scattered moonlight breaching only the weakest branches; spread an eerie silver light, over the thick clumps of bramble and the swaying branches of the great oak.

It’s moss covered trunk glistened as the new morning dew slowly settled. The lower branches creaked as a night owl gracefully settled on it. The owl’s razor sharp vision watching in silent fascination the leaf covered undergrowth. The branch groaned as a slightly smaller owl alighted; it had the same blood red eyes and speckled crescent as its companion but had a large patch of white feathers on the base of its neck, which glowed ominously against the darkness beyond. Although smaller the bird carried with it the confidence and presence of a plenipotentiary, the silent night air seemed to shimmer around it, like a religious leader upon ascension.

Suddenly the ground underneath the tree rustled as a small rodent quivered in the chilly night air. Silently two pairs of observant eyes whipped around to the spot of the noise as their ears cocked to search for the disturbance, waiting for a repercussion of the noise. The great bird playfully flapped its wings, dislodging the faint ice crystals, which had begun to fall.

The moonlight glinted ominously off the small pool, half covered in rippling lily pads. The pure mountain water bubbled up from the depths overflowed down a shallow channel, carrying the natural debris downstream. The small pool sent shimmering light, reflected backwards and casted it’s weird presence on the surrounding trees and shrubbery. Once in a while a spiralling drop from an overhead leaf would disrupt the perfect harmony of the water, sending shockwaves out from its epicentre as the water lapped against the soggy woodland floor.

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The fragile air was shattered by the solitary howl of a bloodhound, echoing though the frozen hulks of the ancient trees. Soon the chilling howl grew into a chorus of wailing gnashing dogs.

Beside the rippling pool, a faint rustle of leaves could be heard over the gushing water. A small clump of earth (formerly a hillock) shifted uneasily under the weight of a furry little mammal, which had unwittingly fallen asleep upon the warm, comfortable mound; which currently was slowly shivering in the chilly autumn wind. The skeletons of dead leaves from the overhead branches fell from the back ...

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