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The Wolf on the Footpath
Elaine looked up, elbows deep in the mocha-dark soil. A harmless looking, rather shabby, brown-haired man was leaning on the garden wall. Yet, in his gaze something gave the sensation of prey in a predator's stare.
He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "G'morning."
"Good morning," she returned, unenthusiastically.
"I'm looking for an old friend: Mr. Snape."
The fine hairs at the nape of her neck prickled, and Elaine stood, brushing her hands off.
"There is no one here by that name," she said frostily, walking as calmly as she could back to the safety of Spinner's End.
Mocha, #42