It's interesting how life imitates art.
I'm working on a free sequel to Huntress called, Hunted. It's about the hunt for a serial killer on an alien world. Excalibur Jones killed quiet a few people, but let one go, the protagonist, because he has a special affection for her.
Now, you might be wondering how this compares with real life. Well... you'll recall I spent a few days away in Canberra, whooping it up with the rellos. In our absence, mice moved in from the garage. Lots of 'em. More than I thought, anyway.
Before we left, I caught two in traps; when we returned, two had died of... something, and I spent some quality time cleaning out cupboards.
In two weeks, the total mouse kill stands at two dead from, let's say, natural causes, and eight - count them - eight! in traps. And one... I let him go. He was so cute with his bewhiskered nose poking out of my computer bag, black eyes curious. I zipped up the bag and took him outside, released him away from the house.
These mice are half the size of what you see on the teev. They're brown, small, incredibly fast and remarkably smart (though you might not think so given they're now dead). I set and reset the traps around the house with peanut butter or honey as the lure. A lot of the time, the bait vanished and the trap still set.
Eleven of the beggars! Ten now gone to their reward and one tasting freedom in a wood pile - or he's snuck back into the house.
Excalibur Jones has a similar kill or release count. Will the free mouse succeed where so many have failed? Take the bait and win or be caught in the trap and lose?
I guess I'll have to write it to find out... but the parallels are eerie.