Waking with a start, leaves rustle in the breeze;

Infused in the cool air, the scent of snarling teeth;

Death drifts on a bleak wind as the hounds are set free;

The hunt is coming and it's coming for me.

Heart quickens, preparing for flight;

Danger in the air, infused in the ashen light;

The menace of the memory of fresh blood, bites;

Limbs twitching, waiting for the first sight.

A huntsman breaks out into the open;

Slowing to a trot, his horn ignites commotion;

Riders in red, gallop with hounds barking before them;

Seething, lashing, baying, shouting, frenzied motion.

Already running, jumping at a steady pace;

Preserving strength with athletic grace;

Circling closer in a spiral, nowhere to escape;

Slowly losing ground in a deathly race.

Heart tiring, lungs heaving, tunnel vision;

Fresh hounds kindle a deeper fright within;

Terror fuels a final sprint, the air is thin;

Hooves thunder with the hated smell of man.

Trapped in a patch of boggy ground;

Forelegs numb, too weak for a rebound;

Dogs growling, tearing my flesh, a brutal sound;

Searing pain, dis-membered, dis-embowled.

Life drains away, as blood warm, seeps;

Deep wounds exposed, gaping in the heat;

Thick orange fur with bright white streaks;

I am Fox, sentient, as sure as my heart beats.

The hounds fare no better in this treacherous game;

No longer fit for purpose, often brutally slain;

By a rogue elite with privilege, never to be blamed;

As we send our love to every creature needlessly maimed.

Sue Cartwright

Spiral Leaf