The Mountain King
“Behind him, the afternoon sun was slanting down to the horizon, edging the distant blue mountains in New Hampshire with a harsh line of orange fire. Long, gray shadows stretched out in front of him as he clambered over rocks and scaled sheer cliffs, all the while searching for the telltale splotches of red. He was amazed that, wounded as it was, the creature could cover such rugged terrain so easily. No wonder, when it wasn’t hurt, it could appear and disappear so fast. This tiling seemed to have the agility of a mountain goat and the endurance of a bear. After almost four hours of tracking, Mark still didn’t seem to be gaining any ground on it. The blood spoor was lessening, but for it to have lasted this long, he knew it had to be a serious wound. Fewer and smaller splotches appeared further and further apart. A few times, Mark lost the trail entirely and had to swing around in a wide arc until he picked it up again. With night approaching fast, he was afraid that he would lose trac...k of the creature for good.MoreLess
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