Marcus wiped the sweat from the long strands of greying hair on his brows, laid down on the ground behind a thin covering of overgrown bush, and leveled the Winchester's stock against the potmarked cheek of his face and firmly planted the **** of the rifle into his shoulder. He squinted his left eye closed and focused his right thru the mounted telescope until the crosshairs and his target became clear. He eased the index finger on his right hand against the trigger and carefully began to squeeze until he heard the satisfying bang of the rifle and felt the kick in his shoulder. He watched in slow motion as the bullet left the barrel of his Winchester, spinning in its rotation, burrow into the thick left chest muscle of the animal he had been tracking for the past four days and rip out with a geyser of blood on the right shoulder. The animal staggered in a stupefied daze for a few feet before collapsing where it stood and resigning itself to its inevitable death.
Marcus stood up and dusted the dirt off of his tweed hunters jacket and cotton canvas pants and slung his Winchester over his shoulder and began to descend the slight hill that he had shot from. He felt a breeze pick up from the west and knew that a storm was on its way and that he had only a short time left to collect his trophy. Marcus began a slow jog towards the downed animal when the terrain leveled out and noted how quickly the breeze had picked up in its coolness when it touched the exposed skin of his face. It was going to be a heavy storm. He ran a little faster, his riffle swinging and bumping across his back as he quickened with every step until he started to feel a burn in his side. He slowed down enough to a comfortable cadence and continued on towards the beast.
Rain started to fall from the low ominous looking clouds. Slowly at first so that Marcus could barely feel any trickle of wetness hit him until it suddenly became a downpour and he had to seek refuge beneath the low hanging branches of a pine tree. He dried his face off with a handkerchief and watched the rain berate the ground from between the pine needles.
He kept watch on his prey and the weather and after thirty minutes of continuing rain decided that he could and should make his way to the wounded animal and left the safety of the tree just as a bolt of lightning shot down from the sky and stuck the top of the pine, lighting it aflame and sending a loud crack thru the air around Marcus. For a few moments he forgot to breathe until his basic instincts kicked in and his brain screamed at his lungs to inhale.
Marcus stalked carefully towards the animal, following a blood trail that had been left when he had shot the animal in the leg a few moments before his wounding shop. He came upon the animal attempting to hide in patches of overgrown grass and, removing his riffle from his shoulder, parted the grass with the barrel of his gun until he was looking into the scared blue eyes of his ****. His blonde hair was matted with drying blood and his body smeared with dirt and fresh blood. Marcus looked at him and let a derisive laugh escape his mouth as he watched the mans lips twitch and heard the gurgles in his throat as he attempted speech.
"P-p-plea-se don---'t k-illlllll m-eh," the blonde man finally managed to spit out between splurts of blood and death rattles.
Marcus unsheathed his Bowie knife and knelt down beside the man and cradled his head in his arms.
"Hush. Hush. It will all be over soon. You've been a good hunt. You've evaded me longer than anyone else ever has. I commend you for that. I appreciate your sacrifice. But it was inevitable that I should **** you. You know this don't you? There was no escaping. Surely you knew this?" He looked at the mans face and saw a resigned hatred in his blue eyes. Marcus was taken aback for a moment but quickly gathered himself back together. "Now, now. Don't be like that. You gave it your best. You really did. It's just...that I'm better."
Marcus took his knife and put it against his ****'s throat and quickly plunged and slid the blade across his neck. He listened closely and relished the sounds of the mans life leaving his body.
Marcus sat there smiling, holding his trophy closely; as the rain continued to fall.
This is part of a thirty day writing challenge issued by a friend.