
There was no magic in what he did. The snow made it easy to track the footprints. So long as it did not snow again before nightfall, he would find his prey.
The creek had not frozen over yet, the bubbling water still trickled through the land on it’s journey to join the mighty Yukon. The running water was the only sound apart from the crunch of his steps.
He followed the paw prints away from the creek, up into the bare trees of the surrounding forest. The sun had begun to drop behind the branches. Soon he would have to find shelter for the night.
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About Sue Vincent
Sue Vincent is a Yorkshire-born writer and one of the Directors of
The Silent Eye, a modern Mystery School. She writes alone and with
Stuart France, exploring ancient myths, the mysterious landscape of Albion and the inner journey of the soul. Find out more at
France and Vincent. She is owned by a small dog who also blogs.
Follow her at
scvincent.com and on Twitter
@SCVincent. Find her books on
Goodreads and follow her on
Amazon worldwide to find out about new releases and offers. Email: findme@scvincent.com
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Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.
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Reblogged this on Die Erste Eslarner Zeitung – Aus und über Eslarn, sowie die bayerisch-tschechische Region!.
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