SHADOW
OF A RECLUSE
 

By Tessa Harvey


    Just before cresting the plateau, Marie paused. The view was stunning. Deep below was the valley. Grass rippled in the gentle winds, silvering like sea foam, sliding before the soft moving strokes of air like ripples of water. A stream curled between the growing wheat meadows. In the distance was a low-built farmhouse with out buildings scattered around, some clustered close to the main house, others scattered farther afield.
    The clear sharp whinny of a horse came to her and she saw it trotting in an enclosure. Marie could discern a gate and fence posts but only brief glimpes of gleaming wire, sunlit. Her little dog, Minny pressed close to her ankles, whining, panting.
    From her bright red backpack, the young woman produced a small tin bowl and a water flask. She poured some for the dog and drank some herself. It was fresh and cool. "Food soon, honey," she murmured, hefting the backpack over her shoulder and turning. "Let's get to the top first. Then the meal tastes much better." Minny did not agree, but scampered after Marie as she crested the plateau. She gasped in surprise, stepping into the dark shadow of a tall man looming over her.

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