The Hunting Dance

"I'm grateful. I was confident in your support.

"I haven't yet committed to doing it. I admonished, "I'll consider it."

After standing up, George proceeded to the door. He stopped and placed his hand on the door handle before turning to face Stanley and begging with him to complete the task. Stan grinned. "Let me consider it. If I decide something, I'll let you know.

George was a reserved individual who was nevertheless incredibly tenacious. He had a good sense of how to acquire what he desired. He was quite convincing. He and Stanley had certain similarities. He had achieved such success in his business because of this. He could get people to divulge facts that they ordinarily wouldn't tell anyone, which helped him gather evidence for his legal cases.

Stanley wasn't sure what to think as George walked out of his office. On his swivel chair, he reclined backward. He whirled around with his hands clenched in front of him. He constantly did this anytime he was debating whether or not to take on a case, needed some inspiration, or was simply pondering. Stanley hadn't been to the town's yearly Dance Of The Prey celebration since he'd moved there. It could be an excellent chance to look into George's assertions.

He made the decision to think about it over night and research it the following day. A little while later, he went out of the office. He could see the sun's golden reflection on the storefront windows as he crossed the street to his automobile in the distance. It was the ideal situation. At any other time, Stanley would have enjoyed the scenery and perhaps even taken a photo, but he chose not to. The departing sun gave off the impression that it was clinging to a day that had already told the earth goodnight.

Stanley's wife was on the phone when he arrived home. After giving her a forehead kiss, he entered the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee. He took the kettle in hand. It was a waste of power, according to his wife, to fill it all the way up. "Stanley, you only need to boil enough water for one cup. Are you sure you won't drink the entire kettle?

He filled it full, set it on the counter, and flicked on the switch because she was no longer looking. Naturally, a full kettle takes longer to boil, giving him time to get ready upstairs. His wife was still on the phone when he returned to the ground floor.

Women, Stanley mused to himself, are the subject of nonstop rumors. He walked into the kitchen and made a cup of coffee for himself. What happened to the wife who used to give him a kiss and a hot beverage when he got home? His wife had just gotten off the phone as he entered the living room.

That woman was George's spouse.

"Oh yeah."

Stanley made an effort to appear indifferent, but his wife was obviously itching to speak. He adopted his customary posture of appearing to listen so she wouldn't object.

"Go on."

She was fine with that, even if he didn't recall much of what she said, as long as he could act like he was paying attention. He would periodically make the right sounds or ask a question. She was unaware that they all arrived in the same sequence.

Who would act that way?

That is just unbelievable!

Unbelievable!

Then he would rub her hand, stroke her hand, or toss his hands in the air. That gave her reassurance that he was still paying attention. He would finally turn to face her and say, "I know, I understand," for example.

She muttered something about the festival that caused him to sit up straight as he prepared to recite his prepared speech. He disliked how troubled she appeared to be. There was a serious problem. Stanley could tell from the reserved tone of his wife's delivery. That serene exterior belied a flutter of panic. Stanley doesn't often get anxious easily, but this time something seemed off.

After work, Peter's father was supposed to fetch him up from the festival. He had been eager to share his happy news. The coveted position was now his. The Prey, he was. Children from the neighborhood trained all year long only for the chance to perform on the festival dance stage.

Peter was starting to regret going to the festival as it was becoming dark. He strayed from the gathering and headed for the major thoroughfare. He saw a black figure in the sky. It had suddenly materialized. It had never been there before, so he was certain of that.

While starting to go backwards, Peter kept his focus on the form. His hood slid over his face and obscured his eyesight as he turned to look at the road behind him. The form had advanced by the time he drew it back. It was closing the distance between them quickly. He began to rush toward the others. He took a glimpse behind him and saw the dark figure breathing flames.

Peter fell forward with his arms flapping when his feet grabbed on something hard. The beast was nearly upon him by the time he forced himself to his knees and stood back up. It left a trail of devastation in its wake.

Stanley had previously dismissed the mythical nature of the sunset dragon narrative. When he discovered that an old prophecy was coming true during his lifetime, he was appalled.

The sunset dragon pulled them from the clutches of death when the town's ancient residents were assaulted by an alien tribe. They made a promise to return its compassion by sacrificing a kid once every 100 years. For one little child, what at the time seemed a reasonable payment for their freedom, is now a constant nightmare.