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The Fugitive  

Member rating: No Rating | Words: | Submitted: Thu Jul 11 2002

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THE FUGITIVE The darkness enveloped the woodland, the heavy mist, drifting in great plumes. The scattered moonlight breaching only the weakest branches; spread an eerie silver light, over the thick clumps of bramble and the swaying branches of the great oak. It's moss covered trunk glistened as the new morning dew slowly settled. The lower branches creaked as a night owl gracefully settled on it. The owl's razor sharp vision watching in silent fascination the leaf covered undergrowth. The branch groaned as a slightly smaller owl alighted; it had the same blood red eyes and speckled crescent as its companion but had a large patch of white feathers on the base of its neck, which glowed ominously against the darkness beyond. Although smaller the bird carried with it the confidence and presence of a plenipotentiary, the silent night air seemed to shimmer around it, like a religious...

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