The stream running through the jungle was a good place to stop and set up camp. It provided shelter as well as the perfect viewpoint. The tiger would soon approach to drink or even bathe. Cats not liking water was a myth as far as the tiger was concerned and Brad was sure he’d be near enough face to face with his prey.
Brad was used to waiting for his quarry.
His finger itched as it was poised, a practise for when a tiger came into view.
The setting was perfect and Brad found it hard to hide his excitement as a low growl reverberated through the jungle.
The jungle erupted in a cacophony of warning cries.
The tiger was near.
Through the long grass, Brad was sure he saw movement and he trained his eye, not moving an eyelash, afraid to breathe.
Brad was controlled, despite the adrenalin. He was only a matter of feet away from this magnificent animal, could see clearly the sparkling eyes, the huge padded paws.
Silently, the tiger stood. He seemed to be staring right at Brad. This was his only chance before the tiger would bolt into the undergrowth.
He aimed. His finger gently pressed down.
A gentle click.
The tiger yawned then skulked back into the jungle, leaving a deliriously happy Brad with the photo of a lifetime.
Written for Cara Michaels.com/defiantlyliteratee