With one hand holding onto his shotgun strap, Grosvenor held his lantern in his other hand, looking out as the light pierced through the dark forest. He took careful steps, avoiding small twigs. He scanned the woods and his eyes fell upon a dark distant object and grinned with pleasure.
There you are, he thought.
A boar, a beefy creature, was sleeping a yard away beside a bush. Grosvenor stepped behind a tree and dimmed the flame of his lantern. He removed his shotgun from around his body. He had a clear shot.
As he began to pull the trigger, a breeze made the flame of the lantern flicker. Grosvenor cursed to himself silently and to the airy element that destroyed his focus. As he tried to regain it, whispering, faint indistinct whispering made him turn behind. There was no one behind him. He turned back around and frowned.
The boar was awake but still lying down. Its head was up, pointing in Grosvenor's direction. He couldn't see the boar's eyes but he felt and knew that it was looking at him. The hunter's muscles twitched under the animal's unseen gaze. Out of the many years he hunted, none of his victims ever stared at him. They ran for their lives. This one looked at him as if it knew something. As if it had nothing to fear. As if he wasn't going to shoot.
Before he could react, a dark figure shot down from above in front of him, separating the hunter from the hunted. Grosvenor jumped back, his shotgun flew out of his hand. He crawled on his back, his palms scraping the twigs and little rocks underneath. His heartbeat raced as he looked upon the creature that loomed over him, a deep growl coming from its dark mouth. The antlers peeking out from its head gave the dark appearance of a pagan devil, the hellish creatures that were illustrated in ancient religious texts.
Grosvenor reached for his shotgun, grabbed it, and aimed to shoot. The creature's large hand swung out and snatched the weapon out of his hand and swung it into the forest. Now he had nothing to protect himself. Fear rose in his throat. The creature raised its clawed hand and swung it down at a screaming Grosvenor.
YOU ARE READING
The Blossoming: A Retelling of Beauty & the Beast
FantasyLove Sees All *Editing in Progress* Joanna, the youngest daughter of Ian Beaumont and aspiring writer, has always been the apple of her father's eye, even after he has lost all his wealth and moves the family to the humble town of Perreneux. She w...
