Chapter 8: Setting the Snare
Avon didn't rush it.
If the wolf had a pattern—
Then the pattern had to be confirmed.
That morning, after finishing his daily mission, he moved quietly around the farm, gathering what he needed.
Not tools.
Not yet.
Just pieces.
Feathers.
A few from the coop floor.
A few caught along the fence.
Then—
Blood.
Not much.
Just enough from where his mother had cleaned one of the chickens the day before.
He worked slowly.
Carefully.
No one paid him much attention.
To them—
He was just a child wandering around.
To him—
This was setup.
He chose a spot near the weaker side of the fence.
Same place.
Same angle.
Where the tracks had been.
He scattered the feathers first.
Lightly.
Not too obvious.
Then added small drops of blood.
Not in one place.
Spread out.
Like something had struggled.
He stepped back.
Looked at it.
Then adjusted it.
Less was better.
Too clean—
Was suspicious.
Too messy—
Was unnatural.
When he was done—
It looked right.
Not perfect.
But believable.
He turned and walked away.
Now—
He waited.
…
Night came quietly.
Avon was already awake.
Watching.
Listening.
Time passed.
Then—
Movement.
Soft.
Controlled.
From the same direction.
The tree line.
Avon didn't move.
Didn't breathe any louder than necessary.
Then—
A shape.
Low.
Lean.
Eyes reflecting faint light.
The wolf.
It didn't rush in.
Didn't attack.
It circled.
Slow.
Careful.
Avon's eyes narrowed.
"…Smart."
The wolf stopped near the edge of the bait.
Sniffed.
Paused.
Then took one step forward.
Then another.
It didn't fully commit.
It tested.
Watched.
Listened.
Avon stayed still.
Because now—
He understood.
This wasn't random.
This was habit.
The wolf took what it wanted—
Then disappeared back into the darkness.
Gone.
Just like that.
Avon exhaled slowly.
"…Got you."
Now he had the pattern.
Now—
He could act.
…
The next morning—
He started digging.
Not deep at first.
Just enough to mark the space.
Then deeper.
Slow progress.
Careful.
Using a small tool from near the shed.
He worked in sections.
Covering his tracks when needed.
Stopping when people passed.
Then continuing again.
Time didn't matter.
Result did.
By midday—
The shape was there.
A narrow ditch.
Not wide enough to avoid.
Not obvious enough to notice.
He stepped back.
Measured it.
Then moved to the next part.
The rope.
He found one near the barn.
Old.
But strong enough.
He tied it to a low branch first.
Tested the tension.
Adjusted the knot.
Then reset it higher.
More pull.
More snap.
Better.
He worked in silence.
Focused.
Until—
"What are you doing?"
Avon didn't turn immediately.
He already knew.
"Building a trap."
James stood a few steps behind him.
Watching the setup.
The ditch.
The rope.
The positioning.
A pause.
"I thought I told you," his father said, "you're too young."
Avon finally turned.
"I'm not fighting it."
A brief silence.
"I'm just building the trap."
He looked back at the setup.
"I won't be here when it's caught."
That landed.
James stared at him for a second—
Then—
A smile.
Small.
But real.
"…You got me there."
Avon didn't react.
He just waited.
James let out a short breath.
"I don't have a comeback for that."
Another pause.
Then he stepped forward.
"Move."
Avon stepped aside without hesitation.
James crouched near the ditch.
Looked at the structure.
Then adjusted the angle slightly.
"This part's too obvious," he said. "If it's been coming here more than once, it'll notice."
He reshaped the edge with a few quick movements.
Smoother.
More natural.
Avon watched closely.
Learning.
Always learning.
James moved to the rope next.
"Your knot's decent," he said. "But it won't hold under force."
He untied it.
Then retied it faster.
Cleaner.
Stronger.
"When it pulls," he added, "you want it tightening—not slipping."
Avon nodded once.
"Got it."
They worked in silence after that.
Not as father and son.
But as two people building something with purpose.
By the time they finished—
The trap was complete.
Covered.
Hidden.
Waiting.
James stood up and looked at it.
"…This might actually work."
Avon glanced at him.
"It will."
James smirked slightly.
"Confident."
Avon didn't respond.
Because confidence wasn't the point.
Preparation was.
James turned to head back toward the house.
Then stopped.
"Stay away from it tonight," he said.
Avon nodded.
"I will."
And he meant it.
Because now—
Everything was in place.
All that was left—
Was to see if the wolf made a mistake.