The light blinded it, its hands raised instinctively, creating a protective shield in front of its delicate eyes. The echo of the hooves surrounded it. The combination was unbearable. The light damaged its eyes and the growing sounds drilled into its brain through its ears.
It took air to calm itself down, but the smell of wet dirt, wild animals, plants, trees and so many other unknown smells destroyed its little nose. Without any relief, it fell on its knees, weeping blood. With its last breath, it released the most heartrending scream.
The hare-hunt had been very active. After a couple of hours of boredom, riding under the sun and enjoying the forest, one of the youngsters blew his whistle and rode into the deep of the forest followed by many others.
Lord James Barrington stayed back. Experimented hunter as he was, he had waited for his moment, for his prey, and now he was chasing a scared hare through the woods.
Suddenly the most ear-piercing scream interrupted the hunting. It was a soul-breaker, breath-killer, sigh-burner, lake-dryer, garden-witherer scream. The hare fell fulminated to the ground. His horse stood on his hindquarters. Whinnying, it threw the rider to the ground, took a couple of steps and then died.
Lord James Barrington was in shock. For a couple of seconds he thought he was going to die but then the scream ended. Frightened minutes passed by; trees were dead; flowers and leafs laid withered all around.
He rose to his knees, his head spinning. He tried to stand up while leaning on a nearby trunk, his hands feeling the last of the tree’s life that is leaving it. Little by little he came into his senses. He was lost, but he walked toward the source of the scream.
In a bed of leaves and grass a small shadowy figure laid, all covered in blood. By its side there was a little open wooden box, and on its lid there was a single word: “Pandora”.