by Lisa McCourt Hollar
Crocker sniffed the crisp snow, searching for any trace of food. It had been a while since he'd eaten and even longer since he'd been full. Hunger was his constant companion these days, ever since his master had been taken by the Foul Ones.
A noise in the woods caught his attention. Lifting his head, he sniffed the air, growling a low warning to ward off the obscene thing. Despite the warning, there was another loud crack.
Crocker hesitated only briefly, before turning to run, but as the zombie stumbled out of the woods, that hesitatin was his undoing.
Word Count: 99
Written for #FridayFictioneers