The fox, startled, twisted to avoid the danger.
Too late!
The arrow struck him at the peak of his leap. It struck high on his haunch, cut deep into the upper leg. The arrow's force knocked the animal sideward, and he fell short of his victim.
Even as the fox fell the world burst asunder in a thunderclap of sound. The force of a sudden wind drove Demo to his knee, almost stunned.
He froze in that position, starred in consternation at the scene in front of him.
Where the fox had fallen an imp stands, looking at him in anger. It's hand pulls dagger from sheath. The long twisted blade is raised threateningly. Demo takes another arrow from the quiver.
A louder blast of thunder feels the air and the imp looks up in fear. With another glance of hate he dashes away into the bushes.
But Demo's eyes are focused on another, and the imp is not now the center of Demo's attention. The cynosure of his gaze is the beautiful white owl. For the beautiful white owl is now more beautiful still.
Standing free from the trap is the princess of the forest nymphs. She has shed the white feathers of the owl and stands before him in innocent beauty. She smiles as his face reddens, then steps behind some obscuring bushes.
"What, what is it . . . !" he stammered.