"What do you think?"

300

         And there it was. The beast he had been hunting for days and days on end. Just sitting there in an open field, sniffing over the carcass of some great felled herbivore that inhabited these woods. Done by the beasts own two massive claws, no doubt. It was a quadruped, much like a bear in shape save for its head. Rounded, bulbous eyes, and insectoid like pincers protruded from its flat, long, narrow head.

         Jeffrey Kimble was a man of few words. He was old, tired, and so very furious. The Beast, as he had come to call it in his head as he tracked it, had done in his family as they ate their supper, not more than a few days ago. He had the gait and appearance of a man who had seen hard times. There was a slight creak against the tree next to him and he glanced over at the boy who swore to help him, Jimmy. Jimmy looked panicked as he spoke in a nearly inaudible whisper as he said, “are you really going to kill that thing, sir?”

         Jeffrey narrowed his eyes a little, looked back at the beast with its fur still stained dark crimson where his family’s blood had been spilled, raised his rifle and said, “What do you think?” He had said it loud enough that the creature’s head snapped to look at where the sound had come from. This was its last mistake. Jeffrey squeezed the trigger of his rifle and a blast rang out through the woods. His aim was true and, with a thunderous crash, the creature lay dead upon the ground. He fell to one knee, leaning against the tree he had used for cover, took a deep shuddering breath, and finally let himself grieve his loss.