Taking his hand from his forehead, he felt for the familiar cool metal of his gun's barrel. It was there next to him, vines twisted around it and cockroaches scuttling over the length of it's body. He heard them scatter as he stroked the barrel. The low growl erupted again and he squeezed the gun, ready to pick it up at the first sign of imminent danger. A bird screeched in the distance. A moment later, he saw a large winged shadow fly over him. He followed the path backwards and determined that was where the growl must have originated from.
Pushing his body further into the tree, he checked the extra clip on his belt. It was full. He wondered if they were wet from condensation, the sweat that had soaked his clothes, or if the seals had broken down and water had entered the day before when he had stumbled into the river. The growl broke his thoughts, captivating his attention and taking over his mind. Rick recognized that it was closer, more intimidating, much larger than he thought was possible.
Something fell on his shoulder. He pulled away out of instinct, loosing his grip on the gun. Whatever it was brushed his neck next and then his head followed closely by the back of his hand. He reached for his neck as it rolled in a jagged line down to his collar. He looked at his hand and caught his first glimpse of the danger. It confused him. Before he could process what was happening, the largest explosion he'd ever heard in his life filled his ears. In less than two seconds he was soaked to the skin.
He laughed heartily for the first time in two days as the cool rain drenched the ground and pounded against the leaves. The growl came again, this time accompanied by bright lights. His whoops were drowned out by the continued downpour. The only witness to the Rick's maniacal relief was the black panther that watched him from the branches above hungrily.
*** Daily Writing Practice ***