Enga mellom fjella

Fur clad hunter

Fur clad hunter

Thomas stopped at the doorstep, peered inside. It was safe and no one was about. The smell of food, the tinkle of dripping water drew him in. It had been feast and famine, mostly famine, in the cold damp woods. Here there was warmth.

As he looked about, he saw no signs of danger and chowed down like he hadn't eaten all winter, took a drink then turned to leave. The door slammed shut, so he quickly hid. Odd, but familiar smells now reached him. He didn't dare peek.

The sounds of movement, the flicker of shadows, then the light blinked out. Thomas clambered out of his hiding spot and slinked to the door. Still shut and no way out. So he searched the rooms one by one for an open window, no such luck. He avoided the rumble of snores.

Wrapped in black he decided to search for a place in the dark to hide till morning. He found a closet that smelled like the one he knew when he was young, before he left to become a warrior. He made himself small in a corner and dreamed of those times. He could swear he still was dreaming when he heard a scream as the door flung open.

"Hey mom, Thomas is back!"

obsidian
fur clad hunter
green-gold eyes

© 2009 Kåre Enga [165.448] 2009-02-19

The prompt "obsidian fur wrapped hunter with green gold eyes" is derived from a phrase used by AliceNgoreland .

bl...h bl...h bl...h:

So you think I'm back to normal, huh? Not!

But ... I did cook up the rest of the lamb, had salmon loaf for lunch yesterday, did get out and about and saw friends. The weather was nice. Read. Put a few notes in my Journal.

Still bored, still tired, still blocked.

BLOGVILLE

I've been reading a lot of blogs, but not yesterday; totally worn out. I'll catch up and tell you-all what I learned later.

Montana: 34º at midnight

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