Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Mine.
The crisp scent of frigid air, fresh from the southern mountains danced along the nerves in the hunter’s nose. Its head tilted up, eyes searching for any sign, any hint of movement. Crouched low, the hunter scanned the bare, grey slate rock which extended beyond sensory limits.
There was emptiness in all directions, a severe emptiness made worse by the sound of the unbroken wind. The fading trail had abruptly vanished in all directions, leaving the hunter without reference. The sameness drowned out any visual clues as to direction. The sky blended with the grey of the land, yielding no singular point of light, only illuminated with a muted dim glow. No flora dotted this panorama, no fauna to head toward, or away from. Lifeless, the caldera stretched in all directions from the hunter.
Bereft of guidance, the hunter turned into the wind, and began to move. The prey had bought some time, temporarily lost the hunter, but it wouldn’t be able to hide forever. It would show itself again, and the hunter would be waiting.