Jacqueline Brocker

So now this has a title AND plot that it didn’t have before yesterday. It was meant to be a vignette! My brain sometimes, I despair of it (though do enjoy the little surprises it decides to fling up my way too.)

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A rustle through the grass, and Marc’s body stiffened. Brendan’s rifle went up.

The dogs barked and leapt around, one making a dash for it from behind Marc, only to be jerked back by the leash. When a flash of furry ears bounded above the line of grass, Brendan snickered.

“Fucking rabbits.” He put the rifle to his shoulder, and sauntered back to one of the dogs, bending to rub its head with his knuckles. “Daft mongrels, this lot.” Brendan cupped the dogs jaw, shaking it with mock sternness. “Be the death of us one day.”

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