As the crackling sounds drew nearer, she now caught sight of his whole stature, darting in and out amongst the trees. It was definitely Curtis Jones' corduroy jacket, walking just beyond the tree line, clothed in fatigues, hunting boots, rifle slung over his right shoulder. He stared straight ahead, never once glancing her way. Laura allowed her eyes to follow him until the hues blended into the darkness down river. She then shifted her eyes to the left again, the same direction in which she had searched out the echo of the steps, allowing herself to inhale the last of the dusk's offering before climbing the hill to home, and there it was. How had she missed it only moments before? But upon refection,...

At first, she thought it merely some sort of refuge that had traveled down river during the early morning storm and had involuntarily found a home there on the bank, caught in the thicket of branches and roots. Yet, there was something about it, perhaps the shape, curved and bulging, or perhaps the color, yes, yes, the color, that was what attracted her attention, forcing her eyes to give closer inspection, and causing her breath to cease, leaving her gasping for air as her arms flew open her wrap and she leapt to her feet in a dead run. "Oh my God," came out in a gasp, then a scream, then a cry of terror, "Oh my God."