The stillness of the moonlit landscape was disturbed by a presence,he had returned.I saw him in the distance,wading through the tall grass with the wary determination of a hunter stalking prey,there would be no getting out of this.
Slowly I circled him, edging closer,protected by the steady breeze that blew through the miles of tall grass.Out came the silver bullets,his toy was now a fatal weapon.
The wind stilled itself, apparently in anticipation.The nearer I got,the more subgmerged I became in this thick minefield of grain.
Misplaced dark blue eyes connected briefly with mine,it was enough.
He fired once, twice.Wisps of acrid gunsmoke curled from the twin barrels,he loaded two more of those lethal pearls as his eyes darted all around.
He stood watching,waiting.His desperate scanning became controlled surveillance.
No sounds but his measured breathing,no movement.The breeze returned, quickly gaining momentum, whipping through the undefined rows of stalks.
I was not prey.