That miniscule, gem-precious moment,
When the present isn’t yet history,
When today is not quite yesterday
But not quite turned –
As it must – into tomorrow;
Before the huntress’s decision- finger
Starts to squeeze the trigger;
Before ecstasy’s fireworks begin;
That respectful wolf-pause, – before the
Faith-arch jugular leap:
The unique, silver moon instant
When a figure used to dressing in
Shadows and motley
Dances, happily lit by beams
From the evening star,
Full of elf-life and joyous passion
His heart the one that moves quietly
Beneath the surface of the World-Long Forests
The music which only he and I hear
Should go on for ever.
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- Moon Shadow (richardankerswrites.wordpress.com)
beeseeker 
And all it takes… Is one finger.
To trigger.
… and a huntress
🙂
🙂
A huntress..
Thats such a perfect word.
Agree, definitely something powerful about the word and the concept; because it is unusual perhaps, or not an automatic image?
Toyed with using “sniper”/”Hunter”/”poacher” but settled, happily on huntress.