Story 1. Predators on the Moors

For over 200 years, the rural communities of the United Kingdom have fallen victim to attacks by

mysterious feline intruders. As incidents involving these unidentified creatures

continue to be reported, we examine the evidence and question

whether there really are predators on the mores. I'm going to be. And the And then. As he lay on his back staring up into the starry skies above, the young commando smiled

contentedly to himself.

It may not have been the warmest of evenings, but being concealed in a wood in the middle of

North Devon was far preferable to perching on top of a building in the middle of Belfast,

playing hide and seek with his opposite numbers in the Irish Republican Army.

Despite having been a Royal Marine for only a short period of time, a natural aptitude for

the Lemfield Enforcer meant that he had flown through sniper school,

landing himself a spot on one of the regiment's most prestigious teams.

And thanks to a quirk of fate, he now found himself sitting only an hour's drive from his base in Limpstone, hunting a fairy tale through the rolling Devonshire countryside.

There had been no small amount of laughter at the briefing when he and the rest

of his section had been told the reason for their secretive deployment. A farmer in South

Molton had reported that over a three month period

something had slaughtered over 100 of his sheep, tearing their throats apart

with its bare teeth. Their mission was simple, find and eliminate what had become

known as the Beast of Exmoor. For the past three nights, the five sniper teams had secreted themselves at different positions around the farm's perimeter, waiting for the attacker to reveal itself.

So far, nothing of any interest had occurred and with only a few hours remaining until

daylight it looked as if tonight would also end in a no-show.

The sound of a hollow twig snapping loudly off to one side suddenly shattered the silence,

...