The hunt

All was quiet around the pool. The gleaming sunlight reflecting on the water’s calm surface was golden and not too bright. The early morning sun’s caressing touch greeted earth’s nature with a shy kiss. As an answer, a light mist was rising from the ground like a timid blush - the forest floor’s breath, exhaled by nature’s lung. Millions of colours were created where the warming beams of the sun passed easily through the tiny droplets which the mist consisted of. All of the surrounding area was bathed in a myriad of prismatic paints. The pool offered its own morning greeting: gentle waves rippled its natural mirror as if they welcomed the tender touch. Water, mist and warm morning air existed in natural harmony. It was impossible to tell where one element ended and the other began. It was a scene of utter beauty and of pristine wonder.

All of this the Hunter regarded with a seemingly unimpressed stare. His quarry was not to be seen - but soon it will, he thought to himself. Invisible and in complete silence he sat amidst the foliage, unmoving, waiting for his prey.

Life for him was hunting. Never had he known another way of living and never had he intended to choose a different path. And it was a life he savoured. Each hunt was like a rebirth for him. It seemed as if the life he ended, was somehow refuelling his own empty shell with a force not to be compared with anything else. It was like drinking from a clear mountain spring after days of walking through the parched plains of his homeland. Ah, it tasted so good. He was getting eager for today’s drink. Though he kept himself completely under control, he could not help but anticipate the moment of the shot. The exhilarating second of bestowing death upon his chosen prey. It was a solemn act, something no one was to witness or hear about. He alone was in charge, his quarry a supernumerary in the play he directed. A play that always ended with death.

Only a slight rustling of leaves announced the arrival. The creature moved gracefully along the bank, framed by the light of the almost risen sun, which gave the surrounding area a much richer colour by now than it had only moments before. The creature’s body seemed to be made of pure, radiant energy

though this was not what the Hunter saw. He saw his Prey. He readied his weapon and focussed his thoughts on the distance between himself and his Prey. A tunnel opened for him, which excluded all things from his view except for his weapon, his aim and the invisible thread that his mind had constructed between those two. Now the kill was only seconds away. He carefully adjusted his position to prevent being hindered by the stinging sunlight. This is it, he thought, grace me with your death.

And Death came. The feeling first reminded him again of drinking from that cool spring. Only that this water was not cool but deadly cold and shot straight to his heart. The pain coursed through his body, his arrow flew wide while his hands that held the bow relaxed and then suddenly began twitching wildly. His whole body was consumed in a series of short spasms and then collapsed to the ground, unmoving once again. The creature, frightened by the unexpected noise of a body crashing through the thick foliage, panicked and dashed away back into the green safety of the forest. When the arrow gone astray plunged into the pool, it was the last sound heard for a long time. Eventually, the water’s surface ceased rippling and became once again, a polished mirror the sun liked smiling at. Around the pool all was quiet.

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