He crept towards the whining, even though he was now out in the open. When he reached the edge of the forest he had a clear line of vision all the way down the valley to the river, and even then it took him some time to realize that the strange cry emanated from no ordinary animal. Never stay in the open, his father had taught him. He moved stealthily towards the river, where the strange noise came from, darting from tree to tree, feeling the protection of the bark against his shoulder blades, something to touch. He hoped it would be small enough to kill at least that would make a change from rabbit for dinner. He edged towards the noise cautiously the scream had now turned to a whine, but it still did not sound like any animal he knew. But he had never known an animal to scream in quite that way before. He turned, sensing possible danger, his eyes searching for an animal that was obviously in pain. The young boy who was hunting rabbits in the forest was not sure whether it was the woman’s last cry or the child’s first that alerted his youthful ears.
SHE ONLY stopped screaming when she died.
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