Six Sentence Sunday #12
In my WIP The Farm, a mystery pest is feeding on the fall crops that Daeryn and his team of nocturnal predators guard. They have run down one of the furry black animals, but lost it before getting a good look.
They all shifted and Jac led them a couple of hundred feet around a rock outcrop and down a dry ravine. To Daeryn’s nose, the burrow in the bank was exactly as she’d described: overwhelmingly rabbit, but a trace of the pest scent that lurked around the damaged crops and…something else.
Maraquin snorted the air from her nostrils, took another whiff, but shook her head. “I smell it, but have no idea.”
Zar backed from the small hole, looking the most puzzled. “This sounds stupid, but it reminds me of my old granny’s house.”
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