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The moon was full at half past one. I had been sitting in my
chamber reading these ancient texts. Baron de Lahontan
won't be plagiarized tonight.
My trusty companion; Brom, an old foxhound, made a whimper
and tilted his frost covered brow as if to say "something is off."
Not a sound could echo through these walls, nearly 2 feet thick
and made of stone. What could have stirred his imagination so?
Perhaps a door-mouse or an Owl. Nothing important.
Brom scratched at the thick oak plank door and started to bay.
Well I never doubted his instinct before, after all to quote
Shakespeare; "my hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind."
So I leapt up, lit my lantern and put on my wool coat; out into
the Northeast Kingdom we shall go.
So quiet nothing could be heard. No wind, no fluttering of leaves,
nothing. Nothing but noble and ancient spruce, fir, and pine. Still damp
from the recent downpour. The soft bed of spruce muted the sound
of our footsteps. Brom went first and shot into the woods to the
freshet, an old mill creek, from centuries ago.
There it was, a shriek; piercing, shrill, and agonizing. Then fading, as
if all hope has withered away. The point when the eternal darkness
takes over and life fades to black silence. Well Brom wasn't about to
let this happen; if not due to altruism perhaps due to instinct.
~ "But since I am a dog, beware my fangs." - William Shakespeare,
The Merchant of Venice
He bayed loud and long and leapt forward with growls and gnashing of
teeth. All I could see is the reflection of the moon off of the creek and the
silhouette of old Brom shaking his head and jumping back and forth.
As I got closer I could see the trouble, a poor helpless creature was in the
throws of death having been taken by a serpent; probably a water snake.
I picked up the young rabbit and wrapped it in a handkerchief. Not quite
dead, but not quite alive. Back to the cottage we go.
All was stillness, all was dark, the embers of the fire fading to a dull amber
glow. So here I sit in this high-back tufted chair, the smell of frankincense
wafting through the air, Brom at my feet and our new friend snuggled up in his
bosom. As I lean into the side of the chair, clutching this old wool blanket and slowly drift to sleep, Brom and I can rest easy, a young new life was saved.
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