The Watcher

By Janet Baldey

The moon lighting her way, she walked down the path towards him, her breath solid in the frosty air.  He’d been watching her for weeks. He knew where she came from, she came from the village every night and always at the same time – just after the sun had set. As she drew nearer to the thicket where he was hiding, his body stiffened and he held his breath. Concentrating on the track, she passed without glancing in his direction and he followed her progress as her figure dwindled. His eyes gleamed under his bushy eyebrows and he licked his lips in anticipation.

         Jane shivered and pulled her crimson scarf closer as the icy wind sliced into her cheeks. She looked up at the sky, there was a ring around the moon and at this time of the year, that meant snow. Alec had told her as much in his nightly telephone call.

         “Will you be going out tonight? I wish you wouldn’t. I don’t think it’s safe for you to be out in the dark without me. And, it’s bitterly cold. They’re forecasting snow.”

         “That’s why I have to go. I have to feed my animals; they depend on me. On a night like this, I could make all the difference to their survival.”

         “Your animals! They’re more likely to be some rich lawyer’s fat Labradors. Anyway, take great care and don’t forget your mobile.”

         Jane knew he was wrong. She was always very careful to scatter the food inside the wire fencing next to the beaten down patch of grass that signalled an animal run. No dog could get through there. All the same, she wished she could catch a glimpse of whatever was taking the food, it was always gone next morning, every scrap of it.

         She’d gone to the lobby and wound a thick woollen scarf around her head. As she buttoned her heavy coat, she realised she had left her ‘phone upstairs, with a shrug she’d turned towards the door.

         Her feet scrunched over the iron-hard ground. At the top of a rise, she paused and looked at the silver ribbon of path winding down the hill and towards the woods. Although it was hard to leave the warmth of her house, once out she enjoyed her nightly treks. The woods were dark and mysterious, anything could happen in their hidden depths. This feeling didn’t frighten her, on the contrary, she felt a pleasurable trickle of excitement crawl down her spine.

         As she started down the hill, still gazing into the distance, her feet slipped on a patch of loose scree, her ankle turned sharply and she screamed in agony as a bolt of pain flashed up her leg. Her arms pinwheeling, she crashed to the ground and rolled over and over, down the hill. As she reached the bottom, she smashed her head against a rock, her vision exploded in a shower of sparks and she tipped into unconsciousness.

         A few seconds later, it started to snow. Feathering down at first, it gradually increased in ferocity until the sky was white with whirling flakes. Very soon, the familiar fields were turned into an alien landscape, carved into strange geometrical shapes by the drifting snow. In the early hours of the morning, the storm passed, the clouds parted and diamond hard stars peeped out. Before long, the sheeted fields were covered with a thin crust of ice.

         Bo and Peep, two black Labradors, ran around in a circle, their barks splintering the silence. They buried their muzzles deep in the snow, taking great mouthfuls before lifting their heads and sending a cloud of frozen ice particles sparkling into the air.

         Their owners followed, more slowly.

         “Winter, at last,” said Maureen. Squinting against the orange rim of the rising sun she peered ahead. The Labradors had stopped and were sniffing at a mound of snow.

         “What have the dogs found?”

         They plodded on through the deep snow, the outline of their following footsteps showing up sharp and clear behind them. As they drew nearer, Maureen drew in her breath and grasped her husband’s arm, she had seen a flash of red and the shape seemed familiar.

         “Bernard, I think it’s a body!”

         With faces creased in anxiety, they stumbled towards the hummock of snow.

         “It’s a woman. Is she alive?”

         Bernard knelt beside the body and groped for a pulse. It was faint, but steady. He brushed away some of the snow and saw the twisted shape of the woman’s leg.

         “I think she’s broken her leg.”  He groped for his ‘phone.

         Maureen looked around. Apart from their own tracks, the snow around the woman was smoothed and unmarked. She frowned. It had started snowing at 7.30 last evening, she was certain of this, she always called the dogs in just before her favourite TV programme and they’d bounded in with sequins in their fur. She looked at Bernard.

         “Bernard. I think she must have been here all night. It’s been the coldest night for years. How did she survive?

         As if they were coming from a great distance, Jane heard their voices. Her eyelids fluttered and a smile curved her lips. She knew. It was her friend. During all of that long, cold night, she’d been drifting in and out of consciousness. In one of her more lucid moments, she’d become aware she was not alone. A heavy body was covering hers, its warmth protecting her from the sub-zero temperatures. A musky aroma had filled her nostrils and tentatively, she had stretched out a hand and felt coarse bristles. She’d closed her eyes then and drifted away.

         Crouched in his usual hiding place, the old boar badger watched as Jane was stretchered away to hospital. When the fields were quiet again, he got up and trundled away, the fur of his underbelly brushing the snow.

         It had been payback time.

Copyright Janet Baldey