Chapter One
A gunshot crack broke the still silence in the French countryside well before dawn, startling a flock of birds from the trees.
The sound of their flight almost covered the older man and his younger friend as they quickly fled.
The flash of gunfire in the forest retorted.
Afraid of giving away their position, the young man did not return the shot.
Thankfully, no moon shone in the sky this night.
They crouched behind the bushes and waited, unmoving. On instinct, the younger man, James, pushed the older man to the ground and shielded him with his body. Whap! A stray bullet struck the tree directly behind where the older man had stood seconds before.
James focused on the flash of fire in the distance as a spray of bullets landed in a wide arc around them, and he heard the resounding crack of the ricochets in the dark forest. His body tensed, ready for action to fight or flee.
The two men listened, tacit. James pinpointed the shooter's location, but to be sure, he picked up rocks from the forest floor and threw them opposite where they hid.
He gestured for the older man to stay put while James stealthily crept through the forest and periodically threw another couple of stones to lure the killer closer.
He held the cold metal gun firmly, its grip an old, reliable, and trusty friend.
Long, deep breaths centered his focus and energy, his racing heart slowing down its syncopated rhythm.
James took a calculated aim and pulled the trigger. A shout of pain and the heavy thud of a body confirmed his marksmanship. An owl’s screech pierced the night, and he listened to the swoosh of its wings as it took off in flight, looking for prey of its own.
Shrouded in silence, James waited but did not hear any other sounds in the woods cloaking them in darkness.
He carefully made his way back to the injured older man's side and, putting his arm around his shoulders, bore his weight and assisted him to walk as best he could with his sore leg.
They promptly retreated through the dense dark woods to their rendezvous point, where their horses awaited them.
It had been a close shave. Closer than James would have liked. They vanished in the night on their powerful steeds as they galloped away to a small fishing village on the coast of France.