From Ambrose vs Elsie
She jerked her hands to freedom and stabbed his right shoulder with one of the stakes.
He snarled. “You seem to have missed your mark, hunter.”
“No, I haven’t.” She tapped the side of the stake. A thin needle penetrated his skin.
“No. NO! I don’t want to go back! I don’t want to go back! Elsie…” Rosemary and witch hazel filled his head. He trembled as he fought through the euphoria. “Don’t send me back there. Please.”
Elsie transformed into a silver fountain. Red roses cascaded up and down her levels. The roses spoke wet, scented words in her voice, “Don’t worry. I would never send you back.” The fountain twisted and folded into an oversized stake. Red and white splinters shot out of its sides. “I’m sorry, Ambrose. I wish..”
The splinters bloated into full size stakes. They fell to his chest in slow motion just as the witch hazel euphoria broke through his resistance.
He smiled. Everything was beautiful and wonderful. The fountain was especially lovely. Silvered shine. Smooth silk. Smelled of lilies of the valley and musk. A most unusual smell for a fountain. He reached up and touched its smooth, soft skin.
One of the stakes lengthened and sharpened into a dagger. It pierced his skin right above his heart.
“NO!” He grabbed the dagger and snapped it in half.
The fountain twisted into an animal with sharp claws and fangs. It roared at him.and tried to slash his chest. He sank his fingers into its long black mane and pulled the creature down to the floor.
It struggled to escape, but he was too strong. Sweet violin music sang a muffled song inside its throat. “Must set it free.” He opened his mouth wide and lunged for the music. The scent of lily of the valley and musk was so strong, so lovely. So close. Just inches away from his fangs.
The animal wept strings of quarter notes and time signatures.
A block of heavy anger and fury fell on top of him, knocking him off of his prey. Ambrose roared and fought his assailant – a faceless horror made of rocks and thick chains.
One of the chains came loose and tried to stab his chest…
Ambrose refrained from attacking the local wildlife. He had learned in another place and another time that: Rabbits were too small. Birds flew too high. Fish were mostly water. Anything smaller than a rabbit wasn’t worth a bite. And deer were too much trouble.
Deer blood had a bland, radish quality to it that Ambrose detested. Their short, bristly neck fur tended to get stuck in between his teeth. And, nine times out of ten, the deer flailed about in ways that made it hard to enjoy a good meal.
Ambrose stopped and watched an owl fly overhead. It was large, soft, silent. And deadly. He felt a strange kinship with it – a fellow creature of the night.
If only I could fly away…
His stomach growled and so did he.
He resumed his hunt.