The Thrill of the Chase

A man allows for a balance of power between himself and nature

It was hot. It was always hot in this region of Africa, of course; but today felt too still, as if nature was holding its breath. Keller liked to think the sandy grasslands beyond the stifling tent were waiting to see what he was going to do next.

His maps lay spread out on his portable desk in front of him, and he absently puffed at an exquisitely curved pipe as he pored over the terrain features, memorizing and planning. He had been at the desk all morning, and the sun was now directly overhead—usually far too late in the day to leave the camp, especially for a hunt. But Etterman Keller was not the average safari hunter, and such planning had saved his life in the past. He mumbled and fussed over the desk one more time.

"You're going to be late for work, Mr. Keller," jibed Farley, looking up at the sun. "You're probably going to be late to your own funeral, I do believe."

Keller smirked and squared away his camp desk. "At least the event will be well planned, sir," he answered with mock formality.

"Lion again, today?" Farley asked in a more serious voice. "Sure you won't take the auto?"

Keller shook his head, grinning fiercely. "My good man, it wouldn't be a sport if they couldn't hunt back, now would it?"

Farley shook his head, wondering how Keller was still alive after three lion kills, a tiger (he had smuggled the illegal trophy head back to England God knew how), and a young elephant whose mother had gone absolutely berserk. "Good luck, old chap."

Still grinning, Keller picked up his rifle, took up his map, and headed out to the savannah, wondering who would be hunter and who would be hunted this time?

NOTES: ▼

Word Count: 300
Submitted for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Use the phrase "You're going to be late for work"