Moonlight on still water. A clear summer’s night. The sky a pale powder blue, a hint of the solstice yet to come. But the coppice is as dark as a demon’s heart, the tall switches of willow and hazel standing stiff like bones emerging from the earth, thin fingers reaching for life.
And someone is coming.
Shadows stir. Soft footsteps on grass.
A ripple dimples the water; a hand dipping below the surface, something glinting in the light. On the reservoir’s bank, the dark figure stoops low, intent on a task. Silent.
Again, the water’s surface is broken, but this time, the figure freezes, head turned to one side. Listening.
A sudden crack splits the silence. There’s something out there, something moving through the undergrowth. But the sound is low, fast. A harmless hedgerow creature scurrying through the bracken: a badger, a fox, a rat. Nothing that need cause concern.
A soft sigh whispers across the water. The reservoir’s surface is stirred once more, and then the figure rises, walks toward the coppice, and is quickly lost among the shadows.
Silence returns.
A clear summer’s night.
Moonlight on still water.