Friday Flashfic: The Wild Hunt


They warned him not to travel through the woods that night. He laughed at them – superstitious peasants – and walked on down the narrow dirt road.
What had he to fear? The full moon illuminated his path. He had a sword, a bow, and a courageous heart. He was young, strong, foolish.
They appeared from nowhere, spectral figures astride horses whose hooves did not strike the ground. They pursued him, and before them ran hounds with eyes of fire.
At the head of the hunt, a man with stag’s antlers blew his great horn.
On Midsummer Night, the Wild Hunt rides.
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