A Shot and A Shot
The tiger jumped out from between the trees with its teeth bared, straight at George.
George felt a rush of adrenaline in his veins. He shifted his rifle to face the tiger, and yelled, "Down with you!" as he pulled the trigger.
The tiger roared in pain as the bullet ripped through its flesh, crimson blood spilling out of the wound. He roared in fury, and jumped again at George with a wild look in his eyes.
George sighed in exasperation, pointing his rifle at the tiger once more. "Stupid cat," he said.
The tiger was then bombarded with a dozen bullets, leaving an uneven line of holes in their wake.
George smiled as the tiger fell to the ground, never to get up again. "Good riddance."
A tall sandy haired figure stepped out from between the tall jungle trees, as if on cue. The figure, which could now be identified as a man, took one short look at the carcass of the wild cat and sighed, as though seeing dangerous predators as holey as Swiss cheese was a regular occurrence. "Another?"
"Third 'un this morning," George said gleefully. "Mighty good shooting practice. Gotta stay in shape, you know."
The blond man smiled wryly. "Just try not to finish off all our ammunition, will you?"
George laughed. "I make no promises."
Barb was having a crap day. She'd come to work in the pub early that morning, and had been up and serving drunk men for twelve hours straight. Needless to say, they weren't exactly the easiest bunch.
But Barb had dreams, dreams that didn't include her hometown, which was in the middle of no-where, and took place far away, in a land full of adventure.
But as everyone with a brain knew, dreams cost money. So that was the reason Barb was willing to spend hours in the dark and dingy pub she hated, surrounded by drunks who were constantly going for a grab. It didn't matter that some of those men had known her as a child- they could barely see her face, let alone recognize her for who she was.
The small bell by the door rang, indicating that someone had entered. Barb could feel the exhaustion settling in, and sighed, before plastering a fake smile on her face and prepared herself to serve yet another too willing customer.
She turned and saw two men walking straight up to the bar. But that was not what had caught her sight; rather it was the large body of an animal about her size which the shorter man carried over his shoulder that caused her to stare.
There were often hunters among these parts, they were in the middle of no-where after all, and there tended to be jungles in such isolated places. In fact, the jungles were probably what caused them to be so isolated in the first place.
So having hunters enter the pub wasn't so rare, Barb conceded. But most hunters did not manage to kill such large creatures normally, as it was much more common for said creatures to finish the hunters first.
And surely none had entered the pub with their kill over their shoulder! It must weigh at least three times the man carrying it! What business did the man have here with that darn creature anyway? Barb thought in annoyance. I'm the one who's going to end up cleaning the floor!
Fake smile long forgotten, it was with a disapproving frown that Barb greeted the men and asked what they wanted to drink.
"Two shots of tequila and a bottle of brandy," the short, dark haired man, with the carcass answered cheerfully.