The storm was passing and the rain eased enough for other sounds to penetrate the night. Crackling and popping from the poor cottage. A distant siren. A snap as a twig was broken beneath a foot.
Vince held his breath and tightened his grip.
A shadow moved past his hiding place and stopped.
The ominous click-clack as the rifle was readied and then Farrelly raised it and fired at Vince’s coat on the tree.
Branch in both hands, Vince swung with all his strength, hitting the back of Farrelly’s head with a satisfying thwack. The man collapsed face down and the rifle flew from his grasp.
Are you dead?
Are you dead?He searched for the rifle in the grass where he thought it had fallen. Not there. He doubled back, eyes on the ground. Leaving it here wasn’t an option.
‘Now I have another reas
