Excerpt
Up from behind the oak on Devil's Mound, a roar of youthful laughter rolled down the hillside. Brad spun around as the unfamiliar emission met his ears. Because this had been his home throughout his childhood, he was familiar with every sound that emitted from it. Hastily, he slipped each of his legs into their respective holes and pulled his shorts over his flat tummy and up to his tiny navel. Loosening them from around his crotch, because he'd hurriedly pulled them too high, he began to scan the skyline, certain someone was watching him.

Suspiciously, Brad's gaze skirted the edge of the distant wood, then up the steep climb to Devil's Mound. His search stopped at the large oak. He squinted into the sunlight and studied the hundred-foot, two-hundred-year-old tree filled with lush green leaves.
A sudden rush of excitement swept over him. No, he hadn't seen anyone but his mind had flashed back to the many adventures that had begun from that very spot, most of which were fun, especially the wonderful sex he'd had with Malc, and later, Tim, Tom and Mokta.

Brad continued his search of the skyline, moving his gaze down the hillside and along the hedgerows, then out toward his own home. By the time he'd done a complete circuit of his surroundings, he decided that the only human in the vicinity was himself. But he still had an unmistakable shiver running the length of his spine, the one you're supposed to get when someone walks over your grave.

Brad resumed his walk along the track and toward the hay barns. He suddenly spun around and yelled, “Gotcha!” The echo bounced up Devil's Mound, ricocheting off trees and bushes, then rolled down the vale on the other side.

Simon ducked out of sight, crouching low.

“That should scare the pants off them,” said Brad, then slapped his bum and galloped away as if riding an imaginary horse, but released a cry of pain after he realised he'd spanked his sore bottom in the exact spot where the wasp had recently stung him.

Brad continued his downward decent toward the ford, where a trickle of river crossed the path. He hadn't any real plans for the morning and was content to enjoy his first day of leave ambling around the countryside. After such a long period away from home, and all the other nonsense that went with Navy life, it was sheer bliss to be back in the countryside surrounded by the wild animals, birds and wild flowers he so dearly loved, and not to act so grown-up for a change.

Reaching a section of hedgerow bathed in colour, Brad bent and plucked several wild flowers from the banks on either side of the path. Giving each a healthy sniff, first checking for bees, he formed them into daisy chains. Unlike his schoolboy years, he couldn't entwine any into his golden locks, his hair cut very short. However, he did grace both his wrists and slender neck with them.

Before Brad began his ascent to the hay barns, and after paddling his hot feet in the refreshing stream, he stripped away his T-shirt, bringing his already bronzed body into the summer sunshine. Resuming his trek, he raised his arms high above his head, doing several pirouettes, allowing the sun to seep into his smooth skin and the breeze to waft under his fluffy armpits and dry their dampness.

Simon raced down Devil's Mound, keeping close to the wood's edge, field glasses held firmly in one hand...