Poor Stacey! Some days are . . .

Pen of the Damned

Every day, never wavering, Stacey would go on her walk through the forest at the moment the sun started to burst through the ceiling formed by the tall trees. Virgin pines with broad branches of thick needles, they grudgingly fought the onslaught of the light’s invasion, resenting any intrusion into their domain.

This was Stacey’s chosen time to be alone and commune with nature. Even though hazards abounded in the deep woods environment, it was not enough to keep her out. She knew how to spot the signs of the denizens of the forests. This section had its share of bears and a few wolves, but she had never had any trouble with any of them. To be on the safe side, she carried a .38 sidearm and a 30/06. Couldn’t hurt to be careful.

From his observation post high on a tree along the trail, he watched her…

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