His nails were dark and sharp, spreading before him as he stretched first one paw, then the other. He backed further under the Juniper hedge.
She should’ve stayed home, not taken the canoe across the water.
He’d felt the storm coming, and had refused to board with her. She’d laughed, secured her furs for trade, and pushed off, waving her paddle before turning toward the far shore.
Rain was relentlessly cruel. Thunder pierced his sensitive ears. Waves crashed cloudy red, tumbling pebbles.
Nightfall, pressing in, might calm the storm. He’d wait here for her.
She always came back home.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2021)
Carrot Ranch Prompt (09/30/2021): In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story uses the phrase, “across the water.” It can be any body of water distant or close. Who (or what) is crossing the water and why? Go where the prompt leads!