Poaching

Prompt: Poaching



Jameson put one tentative foot forward, muscles tensing as he waited for the faint crack of a twig.

Nothing.  The grass was moist underfoot and his steps were well muffled.  In the darkness, he could see the advancing silhouette of Royse.

This way.  Royse jabbed a thick finger to where the trees thinned up ahead.  Screwing up his eyes, Jameson could just make out the gate and hedge-line that marked the start of the fields.

Hunting was all very well in daylight, but skulking around the woods at night and trespassing onto farmland, well that was, well just plain creepy he decided.  Damn well probably counts as poaching or summint.

His hand tightened round the shotgun.  Shooting a few rabbits was hardly a crime now was it?  Wasn’t like Royse was expecting to a get himself a stag, now was he?  Jameson swallowed.  Coupla rabbits, he told himself and followed Royse.



The brightness of the moon-bathed field was startling after the thick shadow of the woods.  His night-vision recovering, Jameson could see dozens of little black marks on the grass.

Rabbits.

In the slivery half-light, Royse threw him a grin.  “Not as much fun as lamping,” he snickered, “but it’s gonna be great to try out this lil’ toy.”  He hefted the rifle up to his shoulder.  A .22 with telescopic sight and silencer.  Royse’s new baby.

Jameson felt the unease return.  Oh, the rifle was sweet, but its mere presence boosted the lads’ night-time adventure from trespassing (and poaching? Jameson's conscience whispered again) up to something far more illegal. 

He swallowed and found himself nodding along to whatever Royse had just said.  There was a sour taste in the back of his mouth and, with a rush of horrified certainty, Jameson knew that that last beer had been too many.



With a violent heave, Jameson retched, drawing furious snarls from Royse.  And, as one, the rabbits vanished like so much smoke in the field, leaving the lads to stagger home in the cold and the dark.





Word Count: 337