Ficly

Midnight

He hid low in the grass, waiting for her. It was a cool, clear night. The soft moonlight was the only thing illuminating his surroundings. He was confident that the black coat he always wore was keeping him well concealed. He took great pride in maintaining it after all.
He knew this was where she lived, this small townhouse. He’d caught her coming and going many times from here. She came out back most nights and he expected as much from her this night. And so he sat, facing the rear porch amidst the tall, unkempt grass and crouched in waiting. His entire body was tense with anticipation. His every sense searched for any sign of her.
He heard it first, a sound carried to him on the wind – rustling by the porch steps. The area was in shadow, but he knew it was her. She was outside. He stood swiftly, gracefully and began to glide over in the darkness. Hr kept low and when several feet from his target he stopped, standing still. The wind came toward him again and he instinctively lifted his nose to it.

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