Here’s my snippet for this week–just a quiet evening —
Alasdair and Edgar were spending a rare quiet evening together in front of the fire. Alasdair was content. He had fed well from an unattached hiker that had wandered into the property, and that was entirely unexpected. It was a rare enough event to be totally delightful. Edgar had alerted him to the fact that the outside perimeter had been breached, and they had both gone out to the rear of the compound to see a long haired flannel clad hiker standing by the gazebo with a puzzled expression on his face.
“Pardon me, sirs, I–apologize if I’m trespassing. I think I’m lost.”
Alasdair approached him, turning down the hood on his wool jacket as Edgar moved around the rear to stand behind him. Both of them knew what an outsider, any outsider meant. Especially an unattached, unauthorized outsider. At this time of the blood fever, it was much better than large game.
And in a very real sense, that’s exactly what he was.