The Hunt | Friday Fictioneer Piece

Dead Woods
PHOTO PROMPT © Karen Rawson

He moved along the old wooden stairs, wishing for the mask of summer’s green. Sword at his side he stopped at the stream, well, more of a puddle. He jumped lightly over and crouched down looking for their tracks. A partial print peeked through the brush. It was fresh. They were close.

He moved along the route, staying as quiet as possible.


He moved toward the sound of breaking branches. There they were. He circled around then popped out behind them, swinging his sword. Wood crashed against each other as his children laughed.

“Found you!” he laughed as well, playing pirates until the sunset.

Word Count: 105

Check out Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for Details on Friday Fictioneers.

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