The Hunt

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The forest, for the moment, is calm and frigid. The glowing orange sun gently caresses the horizon. The air is crisp and the wind blows softly. Chilled morning dew slowly seeps down into the soft dirt. Smells of crumpled leaves permeate the air. Birds leisurely rise from their nests. A flap of the wings, a quick shake and they’re off. Tweeting harmoniously, the early birds cast their wondrous melodies through the icy morning breeze. Squirrels race from tree to tree in search of acorns for the coming wintery season. The scene has been painted; the fabled hunt is now underway.

At last, Everest the fourteen point alpha buck wakes. With the looks of a grizzled veteran, it’s apparent he has seen many winters. His freshly shed rack makes his appearance increasingly stunning. Nothing can shake this hardy buck. He trots about flaunting his shiny beige coat. Everest’s muscles are well defined; they take shape at the slightest movement. He, the guardian of the forest, stands majestic, tranquil, and kingly. With nothing, but an acute sense of smell and instincts he treks through his dominion.

Not far into the forest The Hunter and his bow come alive. The tree is ancient and the stand is sturdy. Spending the night in the tree, the hunter hopes to catch his prey by surprise. The night was long and arctic. The Hunter is garbed in his usual hunting gear; long woolen socks, brown all terrain boots, loosely fit camouflage pants; his jacket, also camouflage, is lined with highlighter-orange stripes. Lastly he wears his lucky, brown winter hat. The Hunter stirs again. His eyelashes begin to sluggishly flicker. He pats his face to ward off the annoying bugs dancing upon his face. Readjusting his seat he dreamily wishes for a few more minutes rest....

... middle of paper ...

... in position now. The Hunter quietly lays down his grunt call and picks up his bow. Everest stops. Hastily, he notches his bow, it’s the perfect shot, and he can’t miss it again. The Hunter takes a deep breath and softly lets the air escape. He takes aim and discharges. THWACK! The arrow pierces through both of his lungs and exits his body. Searing pain showers over The Alpha. Stunned, he bounds towards the end of the clearing. Everest is fading; His muzzle pounds against the dark brown earth.

The icy air whips against The Hunter as he sprints towards the edge of the clearing. He finally reaches Everest; as he kneels down his blue eyes are blazing. Excitement is radiating through his body. He runs his hand along the muscular figure of The Alpah. He stops; he looks at Everest in the eyes. A tear runs down his rosy cheeks. Everest, King of the forest, is dead.

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