Gordon's Choice
On the northern edge of the forest, a wolf howls. The fire crackles and spits as I sit crosslegged staring into the flames, hunched and shivering. A twig snaps, then another. My heart begins to thump so hard it must surely be heard by whatever is approaching. A shuffle of leaves close behind; I pull my hunting knife, ready to thrust it home. A gust of wind whips up the flames as I turn to face the unfortunate intruder. Piggy eyes lock onto mine. ‘Oink, oink,’ I mumble. He blinks and trundles onwards, snuffling softly, until the darkness swallows him.
