Hunt Time

The water flowing down the river shivered. A ripple crossed the current with no discernable cause. “Huh,” Detrime said, dangling from a rope not far above the water.

“It’s not natural.” The rocks amplified the whining voice. Glancing, Detrime saw the farmer twist his hat again. Much more abuse and the seams would give out.

Either that or Detrime’s nerves. The man hadn’t taken two quiet breathes since meeting Detrime to escort him here.

Detrime returned to the river and the unnatural ripples. Obviously not normal, but what caused it was the interesting question.

Shifting his grip, Detrime tipped forward reaching with a rough stick. He nudged the wood down until it broke the uppermost crest of the waves.

Nothing.

Detrime glanced back at the farmer. “Has anything–” A yank and water rushing about him silenced his question.

Twisting, Detrime spun, but the water moved with him. Light glinted off a hard edge as more air glugged from his lungs. Detrime gave up on surfacing and followed the movement.

A form, invisible from above, glowered at him. Long, scaled, and pissed.

Reaching for a pouch, Detrime pulled free dry sand and flung it at the creature. Shrieking, it fled. Detrime broke the surface, grasped the rope, and hauled himself to the farmer’s side.

“What was that?” the farmer cried. “Is it gone?”

A racking cough later, Detgrime nodded. “It’s gone.” And, if he caught it first, whe water dragon wouldn’t return. Hunt time.