HOMEWARD
The roots of the spinney’s trees gave safety to her cubs’ den. Traveling for home until the shrill horn call came. The hounds yowled on finding her scent. She took the open field and away. Closer now and headed for cover. Men had been there before - this holt entrance was dug closed. Turning, she faced the pack, and ran into the thicket. The manor’s bleak stone wall stood tall and silent. She leapt as the lead hound bit hard and her scream cut the air. They gathered, saw the frenzy, as life oozed away. Cubs safe for now with archaic tradition maintained.
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