Blog #3

Jack’s Journal

I was rapt in the mode of the hunter as I crouched on the ground listening as taut as a wild cat. I heard the pattering sound of hooves in the distance. I automatically had the compulsion to follow the sound but as I ran almost half on all 4’s the sound died out of my hearing range and I stopped to check my bearings. I was by a small creak that trickled over some rocks in the cool swarthiness of the shade. I started to breath in deep but I was stopped abruptly by a rancid smell near me. Not three feet from me was a pile of pig dung still fresh and warm.
I smiled malevolently and dashed into the piercing creepers as I followed a trod path that was big enough for pigs but not me. As I was on the hunt alone in the wilderness I had the impalpable of the pain inflicted on me by the plants. I ran and ran for what seem like many minutes and finally stopped when I saw sand again. I had gone in a complete circle. I growled as I stepped out onto the beach in an incredibly bad mood.