Razorback Ridge [m] Sweet lighthouse

Donnie saw the faint sheen of dying leaves in the distance, and set his aspiring gaze on that. He would have to tread carefully down the ridge’s edge, especially in the dark. With nothing but silence in his ears, he could move forward without distraction-

Until the scent of gamey blood drifted in his direction. His ears shifted but only in uncertainty. Never in his life had he been able to perceive anything fainter than a shout, and even then it was without articulation. 

The man went unseen, unheard, unnoticed.

The youngster began to amble down the incline, until the shale gave away beneath his trembling feet and he slipped.