Authonomy – Friday Flash Fiction [FFF]
Post: FFF – January 31, 2014
Theme / Genre: A Lesson Learned.
Include: –
Words: 1000
Family Bonds
This was it, the pair of them, staring into the face of their murderer; one of them was going to die.
In reality, they had no knowledge of why this was preordained, or how their dispatch was to be administered, however, it did not alter the fact that the two instinctively knew death’s shadow was creeping closer.
Which one of them had he come for?
A question that neither of them could answer. A question their future killer could, but by the way his eyes darted from one to the other, and back, it was evident he still had that decision to make. Perhaps he wanted the two of them dead.
Seconds before, the brother and sister had been leisurely ambling along the shaded trail, skipping the muddy puddles; made deeper by passing horses and their riders, jumping fallen branches; brought down in the April rains, and sampling the aromas of the fresh spring flowers; scattered along the path, the banks of the babbling brook and between the trees that lined the dene. Too interested in their immediate surroundings, and for too long, neglecting life lessons taught by parents; unseen stranger danger in remote places, away from home.
In the shade, the secret of their would-be assassin went unnoticed.
He now stood before them, blocking their way, frozen with intent, as they were frozen with fear. Awaiting telltale signs: the reactions to his presence, a portrayal of his targets weakness to make the first move.
As usual, he’d been up before sunrise, scheming and tracking his intended; knowing they would be out and about, as early as he. From afar and unnoticed, he watched, as they socialised with family, stopping to eat and drink, then bounding away together across the park and into the wood; it was enough to keep up with them without causing attention.
The support of his own family was unconditional, he’d seen to that, it was not jealousy that turned him to a cold-blooded killer, it was something deeper, something primal. With abilities developed through hours of experience, he was the best at what he did: stealth; honed tracking, trapping, and killing skills; used countless times before. Nothing feared him, nothing, and no-one could touch him, he was a master at his game.
Life was good and he aimed to keep it that way.
The early morning sun was upon them, shadows were long on the ground and disappeared behind the steadfast figure in front of them, they warmed with its heat on their backs, so too the blades of grass; letting off small wisps of warm moisture.
Sister and brother turned to face each other, for no longer than a beat of each other’s heart. A moment shared between siblings, a moment unlike any other, which was about to be the last moment for one; for the other, a moment before running as fast as his or her little legs could take them; in a vain effort to outrun the peril.
Yet, for the split second their eyes connected, all was not lost. Hope. Through the moisture of glistening eyes a flicker of hope an ocular signal from one to the other, so delicate, so minimal only they could translate it.
To their executioner, it was the tell he had been waiting for, awareness that his quarry now understood their destiny. Realisation that matters were about to conclude, realisation that nothing could be done.
Again, they faced their predator, this time, however, filled with an inner sense of togetherness and love. The pair felt a guiding strength to front the inevitable consequences of the collapsing situation.
Beyond their strong friendship, the unquestioning love and new found resolve, there was another bond, equally as strong, but not theirs. A twig snapped behind them, the killer was not alone, his son, the killer’s son.
The murdering protégé, of equal slyness, as vicious and as murderous. Full with the techniques handed down from his father, crept with all due care and attention to their backs, placing himself between them and the last escape route to safety. They would surely die.
Death had come. Without conscience, the killer moved quickly.
Hope, also moved as quick.
The girl circled her brother, hiding behind him. Eyes glanced behind to the killer’s son; a little way off, but moving with speed. The boy had to shift; together they were any easy target for the moving assailants. Instead of retreating or dashing sideways, he confronted his enemy and vaulted toward him.
Speeding forward he felt pressure on his back, his sister springing upwards, using him as a step to get more height. Upwards she jumped, eyes locked on the killer father; surprise on his face.
The easy target transformed, taller, upwardly mobile, he reared up in an effort to catch the girl; she was too high.
The killer reynard could barely reach her, his outstretched claws pulled through the soft white hair of the doe’s underbelly, a clump of hair fluttered free, but no spilt blood. The awareness that the first of his prey had beaten him, shattered on the recognition that the second was already hopping between his back legs.The buck darted underneath the murderer, past his twitching sweep, ears closely pinned back to his head; his turn to show courage and genius in outwitting his enemy. The second prey had bolted.
Before the ginger fox returned to all fours, the older cub, now in full flight, and unable to detract from his chosen trajectory, slammed headlong into him. Father and son bowled head long into the undergrowth. Surprised and shocked the two leapt up, as quickly as they had landed, heads darting in all directions, recovering their temporary dazed bearings.
The rabbits had gone, disappeared down the nearest warren hole, out of reach.
The foxes vigorously shook themselves free of twigs and grass, no blame, just a need to move on to the next target.
No amount of parental guidance could teach all the rules of nature.
