The trees leaned forward, as if trying to reach their brethren across on the other side of the road he was walking, their leaves rustling an eerie language. The sun had just set and the last of daylight played hide and seek between the enormous tree trunks; forming the illusion of monsters lurking behind them. A chill ran down his spine as he distinctly heard the call of a spotted deer off in the distance. The call was a bit off he thought, could it be an alarm call, an alert that a predator was nearby. The chill he had just felt, now turning into excitement, he loaded his rifle and ventured forward.
Sure enough, a few steps ahead there were clear pugmarks of a leopard that had walked along the road ahead of him and spooked the deer he had heard earlier. The thrill of the hunt was overwhelming as he followed the creature's trail. He walked silently, careful not to step on the pugmarks. He felt sure that his prey had no idea that he was stalking it; he had checked the direction of the wind earlier and make sure he was walking downwind making it impossible for anything to pick up his scent. His boots were silent on the soft mud of the trail and his camo clothing was almost invisible under the shadows of the trees.
The trail zigzagged across the path and suddenly disappeared in a patch of grass. The sky was getting dark now and the trees turning into shadows, between their branches the moonlight was pale behind a curtain of black clouds. He decided to turn back, upset about the failed hunt. A second alarms call sounded from behind him. What had caused it he wondered, the first traces of fear crawling into his mind. He turned and started walked back the way he came, towards the hunting lodge, towards safety. And then he stopped, frozen in fear. In front of him lay his own footprints on the right of the leopard's trail but on their left, in the soft mud were fresh pugmarks. They pointed in the same direction of his trail and at places they overlapped his boot prints. Something was walking behind him.
He walked fast, stumbling over unseen obstacles on his path. The winds changed as a thunderstorm approached over the horizon, and it brought with it a familiar stench to his nose. A strong musk that he recognised well from the many hunts he had been on and when he posed for the camera with his prize. 'This smell' he thought 'it always accompanies....' Fear clouded his mind; he gripped his rifle tightly and stood still. Around him the forest was silent in the night, except from the occasional thunder heralding the approaching storm. A twig snapped behind him. He turned around, staring straight into two balls glowing green.
THE EYES OF HIS HUNTER....