Roth & Korrigan

Escapade 1: Bodmin Moor

           It was fairly dark on the moor, and the fog was so thick its current occupants struggled to move through it. Mr. James Roth was bent low to the ground, examining the imprints in the soil, while Ms. Korrigan, his companion of two years, held the lantern over his waves of curly brown.

            “Anything?” she asked as she cocked her pistol- one can never be too careful when hunting.

            “This is interesting.” They were currently at a crossway, where the beast had started down two paths, before continuing along a third. Ms. Korrigan bent to look at the paw prints Roth pointed out, her onyx curls spilling out of a messy bun over her shoulder.

            “Was it looking for something?”

            “Evidently.” His gloved digits lightly touched the marks where a nose was pressed to the ground. “See here, where it sniffed each path? Except for the third, and that was the one it chose to travel upon. Our clever Beast of Bodmin Moore used a disjunctive syllogism!” Mr. Roth quietly exclaimed. “Wouldn’t Marge and her Animal Rights Society get a kick out of that!”

            There was a distinct huff of discontent from Ms. Korrigan- she rather disliked the Mrs. Marge Thrace, having encountered her and personic racism one too many times.

            “Shall we continue?” In the early hours of morning, there was much to be desired for the young African American, such as a warm bath, and comfortable bed.

            “Naturally- we’re in the end game Ms. Korrigan- we can’t afford to lose him.”

            “Must we have a repeat of the Ama-”

            “This will be nothing like the Amazon, I swear it.” Roth, as a cryptozoologist and adventurer with a habitual travel bug, embarked on constant trips with Korrigan in tow from his Alaskan abode. This recent expedition to his ancestral home of England was in pursuit of the famous Beast of Bodmin Moore- and proof of a mythic creature to rub in the faces of hid zoological contemporaries.

            “Mr. Roth-” Korrigan’s rebuttal was cut prematurely as she fell with a sigh, lantern crashing to leave Roth in the darkness.

            “Ms. Korrigan?” he turned to find his friend lying unconscious in the dirt, pistol forgotten. There was a figure in the darkness, stooping over her form. “Oy!” Roth rushed towards it, noting the pole within its hand.

            The figure started with a preemptive strike, prompting Roth to counter with an over head block, feeling the sting of wood against flesh. He then struck, trying to aim for the general chest area, only to find his opponent was as skilled in unarmed combat as he. The fighting in the darkness was however, tilting in the figure’s favor- if Roth had his authentic katana at hand, he could make short work of Korrigan’s assailant- all he had equipped currently was his Swiss Army knife, and reaching for Korrigan’s pistol would give a break in his defenses. Just as he was about to lay a knee strike- KRAK!

            James could see his dreams slip through his fingers as his gaining unconsciousness painted the dark, foggy night even blacker.

Author's Note:
     And here begins our adventure...I sort of got too impatient waiting for Saturday. I might add a picture and I might not... it depends. I hope you enjoy this first post! Leave me a comment to tell me what you think!
                 -Writing Wolf