He lay in the snow, his breath rising in little, white puffs. The soft rumble of the approaching engine grew, and he rested the barrel of his rifle against a log. The car came rolling along, bouncing as it traversed the uneven path. He took aim and fired. The dark windows exploded everywhere.
There was no one in the car.
“What theā” he started, but I sent a bullet through the back of his head before the profanity escaped his lips.
His red blood poured over the white snow, the crimson trickle steaming as it raced along the ice.
Tale Told 