As the clouds opened up and the rain came hammering down with all of the intensity only a jungle downpour could embody, Zed turned his face to the sky and let the deluge wash the blood and sweat away from his weathered features. With the sure certainty the fox feels when he has, at last, slipped free of the hounds, he knew he’d shaken off the troops who’d been pursuing him throughout most of the night.
His freedom from them hadn’t come without a price. He’d had to use every dirty trick in his considerable book of such to slow them down and shake them off, including leaving no less than three of them on the jungle floor unlikely to ever get back up again.
When the cleansing rain had done its work, no one would have been able to say with any certainty whether the droplets on his face were merely rain or the tears of a man who’d now heaped just a little bit more bad karma onto his already graying soul in the name of satisfying mission objectives.
This story was written for the 1-year birthday edition of Five Sentence Fiction. The prompt was writer's choice and so, in the spirit, of symmetry I chose "tears" which was the prompt that fell on my own birthday this year. Deepest thanks to Lillie McFerrin for hosting this wonderful weekly challenge. Your efforts to provide a venue for expression are greatly appreciated by this humble one.