He smelt humans, horses and dogs. He heard the yelling of the humans, the snorts and rushing hoofbeats of the horses and, worst of all, the bloodthirsty baying of the hounds. This was the hunt, where the humans rode their horses and sent their dogs into the forest. Then they went around killing things like hares and foxes. Would they kill a wildcat? Ozzy wasn’t about to risk it.
He bolted away from the rabbit and into the nearby undergrowth, hiding himself from the humans’ sight while still making good progress. But his speed was no match for a group of galloping horses. He heard them crashing through the bushes where he’d initially been hiding, then ever closer towards him. He knew that they’d catch him eventually, so he took a risk and leapt up a nearby tree. He hoped the humans hadn’t seen him, but what Ozzy was most worried about was the dogs’ sense of smell. He crouched on a particularly thick branch. Then the hunt arrived at the tree.
There were around ten humans, all on tall, sporty horses. The fifteen or so dogs stopped at the base of the tree, barking and yapping up trunk. The humans looked up the tree, almost exactly where he was. But they couldn’t see him and moved on, calling the dogs. Ozzy released his breath, realising how lucky he was to be alive. He decided to stay up the tree for a while, just in case they came back. He never wanted to repeat that experience, as he figured that if it happened again, he wouldn’t make it out alive.
