Sunday, February 17, 2013

SEAMUS MACLEOD


The winter wind billowed over the heath. Seamus MacLeod trotted with his two elk hounds as they scanned the air for the scent of prey. The green hills were damp with the mist that passed perpetually under the gray cover of clouds.
Seamus was in his early twenties and stood just over six feet tall. His dark brown hair and coarse beard were ruffled by the chilling air.
The young man took in the horizon from the crest of a hill north of his home, Cairn MacLeod. He detected the movement of a four-legged creature in the basin of the valley before him.
“Guyver, Caleb, seek!”
The lanky dogs responded to the command of their master and hurled themselves into full speed in search of game. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the hounds found the scent of an elk.
The chase was on and Seamus sprinted into the green valley with his bow and shillelagh in hand. The dogs closed in on their prized target and in a matter of moments nipped and snapped at the elk’s hindquarters.


To Be Continued...

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