“Scarecrows 8. ScarecrowsThe poacher stood still and silent in the dark shadow of the trees, avoiding the slanting beams of moonlight that penetrated the leafy thickness of the wood. The quiet, rippling gurgle of the river sounded softly in the background as he glanced around, suddenly alert as he sensed that something was wrong. He turned his head slowly, this way and that, catching the breeze and the smell of the earth. After years of poaching the odd salmon from the Tweed, he’d developed a st...rong feeling for the land and knew the breath of the wood.A strange unease gripped him. Maybe a gamekeeper on the prowl, he told himself, although he knew instinctively that it was nothing so ordinary. Again he turned his head and tested the wind. Nothing, he thought, his eyes searching the trees. And yet he knew within himself that there was someone or something close by, watching him. Then he saw it, standing on a slight rise over to his left; a large dog with a rough, grey coat. Must be a stray, he thought, living in the wild, off rabbits and other small creatures.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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