By the time the falconer got to the little village, the weather had turned foggy. Her falcon fidgeted on his perch in agitation. She stroked him softly, listening.
They'd made her sit through a town hall first, to acquaint her to the target, to hear his litany of sins against the villagers. It didn't really matter to her. She'd been hired to do a job.
She hunted by sound, stalking past the gardens, through the pub and into the miniature village. It was still ahead of her, honking proudly, unaware.
Today, that goose would get what was coming to him.
YOU ARE READING
Everyday Drabbles
Short StoryA drabble is a very short story one hundred words long. No more, no less. They are designed for maximum impact in the least amount of space. For 2019, I'll be posting a drabble every day.
