For Sonya’s Three Line Tales prompt.
photo by Raúl Nájera via Unsplash
The hunters read the notice and laughed, arrogant, derisive laughter, because they were hunters and they respected no rules but the ones they made themselves.
There were deer in the woods, hare and pheasant in the broad glades, and game was game, wherever it hid.
Shouldering their rifles they climbed the fence and jumped, clearing the brambles and landing in the concealed trench filled with razor wire, their screaming drawing from the tree shadows, the waiting wolf pack.