Frost Moon
4.30am. The rain stopped and the wind in the north, cool but not yet biting. Momentary glimpses of a white disc of moon in a river of fast-flowing black cloud. The path that descends under the old pines not quite the usual pit of darkness - overhead the sway of trees visible against the moon-bleached cloud.*
A crashing through the bracken and brambles that I thought at first was Pip, was followed by the distinctive thumping beat of a deer bounding into the distance. By the time I turned and lifted the torch, the deer had vanished. An encounter with the sound effects of a deer rather than the deer itself.
*'Moon-bleached cloud?' Bugger. PURPLE PROSE ALERT!
A crashing through the bracken and brambles that I thought at first was Pip, was followed by the distinctive thumping beat of a deer bounding into the distance. By the time I turned and lifted the torch, the deer had vanished. An encounter with the sound effects of a deer rather than the deer itself.
*'Moon-bleached cloud?' Bugger. PURPLE PROSE ALERT!