Striding the field edge, dog loping silently at his heels, the hunter switches his rifle to his other shoulder. Moonlight silvers the furrow ridges, reflects stars in frosted puddles. Looking, listening, his hard eyes glitter.
Sighing, Orion climbs into the sky to take his rightful place, faithful Sirius following always.
Helen writes flash and short fiction. This summer, she’s directing The Winter’s Tale for the Wivenhoe Outdoor Shakespeare and worrying how to stage “exit pursued by bear.”
