The Hunt

The axe gleamed dully in the afternoon light. Its edge was marked with a coat of crimson, still a long way from congealing in the oppressive humidity. A bit of flesh was clumped at one end of the curve, marring the smooth symmetry of the blade. The hand holding the axe was masculine, with long, slightly hairy fingers. A mix of blood and sweat stained the back of the hand.
From his precarious perch in the branch of the sugar maple, the intended prey kept a wary eye on the hand and the ace it held. The tree was not an ideal long-term hiding place, and once the owner of the hand began to search in earnest the prey would be found quickly. The tree had years yet to grow, and offered no viable defenses.
Out of the corner of his eye, the intended victim saw movement. Without hesitation, he leaped from the tree and hit the ground running. Behind him, the accomplice let out a string of curses. The axe moved to intercept and he abruptly changed direction, screaming a cry for help.
The girls watched impassively, long since inured to the scene before them. Lazily, they enjoyed their lunch of salad and leftover carcass. They barely even reacted to the chase cutting through their midst.
With a leap, the intended victim tried to clear the fence but fell short. He whirled back and attempted to use the girls for cover, circling to keep them between himself and the accomplice.
From the other side of the fence came shouts of encouragement and direction to the accomplice, along with laughter. The intended victim ducked inside the structure he called home and sought a place to hide. Behind him, a shadow moved in the opening, and then darkness as a blockade was moved into place.
Trapped! Obviously, his assailants had prepared. The accomplice moved in, trapping him in the corner. Her hands caught him by the legs and swung him upside down. She yelled in triumph as she carried him to the man with the axe. Carefully, the victim gathered his strength for one last bid at freedom and life. He waited until the accomplice began to hand him over, and then beat his wings furiously.
He slipped free of the man’s grasp and lighted in the oak tree. Quickly he raced up the branch, beating his wings for speed. One last leap, and he was atop the roof, safe and sound. Victorious and cheered, he let out a long crow.