In the moments just after it had happened, she was breathless, wild eyed, face twisted into something like a grin.
She’d killed it.
It had come out of nowhere; its breath hot, stinking in her face, eyes rolling wildly, fangs bared.
There had been no time to think. Had she paused, those fangs would soon have pierced her flesh. She wiped the blood from the knife she had brought with her, resheathing it at her belt.
The monster’s body lay sprawled across the path.
She continued her journey, cautiously, knife in hand.
Who knew what other monsters she might meet?
Tom Juniper Poetry 