Part 3 of 5
Mason crept slowly through the pine trees, guiding his feet carefully through the brush underfoot as he approached the edge of the forest. His target was less than fifty yards away now, a small patch of bushes at the edge of the tree line where he'd spotted the exposed barrel of a sniper rifle half an hour ago. Since then, he had circled around through the trees, approaching from downwind to reduce the chances of detection.
He knew who this was, and he also knew that he would only have one opportunity to catch him out.
Gradually, he advanced, each step precise and deliberate, his eyes fixed on his objective. He could still see the barrel, only just visible among the foliage, but it was enough. As close as he was now, he remained calm, his heart rate only slightly higher than normal.
Passing silently from tree to tree, he moved within twenty yards of the bushes. Shifting his weight onto his back leg, he carefully stepped over a rock, its surface covered in lichen, before testing the ground on the other side. Satisfied with his footing, he started to bring his trailing leg over. And that was when the hand-grabbed him.
Sinewy fingers wrapped themselves around his ankle and dragged his leg out to the side, throwing him badly off balance. His eyes darted to the ground just in time to see the rock come alive, the mass of lichen raising up and barreling into the back of his other knee, sending him face first into the ground. He felt the weight of the rock roll up his body, a sharp knee jabbed into his back, and a heavy weight braced his shoulders to the ground.
'Alright Mason, how's it going?' asked the amused rock.
Cursing under his breath, he spat out a mouthful of pine needles. 'Screw you, Ghost,' he replied.
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