Part The Second
It would appear my earlier feelings of foreboding were well formed. As I brave the wilds of the estate, I hear rustling all around me. My eyes dart back and forth but they reveal no sign of their malevolent presence. The air is filled with the sound of nuts being crunchily chewed upon.
Suddenly, they are there. And they are legion. A bushy-tailed horde, eyeing me with murderous intent. I have encroached upon Squirrel Territory and they will extract their price for my transgression – a price in blood.
But, no, I will not submit, I will not bow to this brace of menacing mammals. I’m English, by crikey, and I will not be cowed. I plough on through and they disperse before me, cowed by the righteousness of my Anglo-Saxon fervour.
I make it to the other side and the fear that had held me it’s prisoner seems to dissipate. Until I make the mistake of glancing backwards. There I see, in increasing numbers, a tiny Sciuridaean army, lurking in silent, nut-crunching rage. I may have made it through unscathed this time but, next time, I fear I may not be so lucky…
To Be Furthered