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Beyond the hill comes the soft thump of metal against soil. A deer throws up its head, one ear now stiff to the sound’s direction. Grass falls out of its mouth, floating down toward the ground. As the eye opposite to the sound whirls to look everywhere at once, so too its other eye must be frantically searching for the source. The fall of grass fades into a vague forgotten trace of green. The deer’s body remains still. It shifts its head slightly, imperceptibly. Its face falls into shadow; the light must have been blocked by a passing cloud. A wind rises. Its legs tense. Leaves settle on the ground around its hooves. More drift dreamily above. After several minutes, the deer’s face comes back into light. Its mouth seems slack, but still is stuffed with grass. Its eye has ceased to wander. So, now it seems the threat has passed. It relaxes. It sighs. Toward the slope it falls. A blue, green, and then black hole in its side. A shaft flying toward the opposite horizon. The dart had pierced it through.

I step toward the carcass, surgically inserting my toes into gaps in fallen leaves and twigs. I remain low to the damp earth. My eyes flick here and there, white isles in mud. My ears hear all the forest sounds; an obnoxious buzz, a helper to a hunter. My destination is certain, yet my path wanders. Screams. I lower my body to almost touch the forest floor. Sways of green swirl carelessly outside my vision. More screams. Movement snaps my vision upward, and I push off my elbows and roll sideways just as something smacks the dirt with a hollow thud. My dart is ready; the thing is a lazy distraction. My arm’s still; both it and my body rotate, tense as cornered prey. The treetops sway, so slowly above. The aroma of crushed ferns tickles my nose. Those had been crushed before. Chirping of squirrels. Scampering of woken rabbits. Slithering and rustling of shrouded snakes. My fingers begin to tremble. I allow my arm to drop. That object is covered in fur. Its center rises. After a moment I heft my dart again. Its center falls. My whole arm starts to shake. My eyes widen. Vision blurs. My arm drops. My breath stops. The trees grow distant, floating sleepily away. My heart tightens, and stops. I collapse, cheek splashing onto sodden moss.

A second later light floods my senses. I try to think. My feet, slippery, gather somewhere far below me, wet with stringy vegetation. I struggle. My knee hits something hard, and I scream. My foot slips. I gasp as air rushes past my face. My hands try to find

The boy hadn’t even reached his prey. Half-immersed in greenish-black puddles, his body had already begun to rot. Flies buzzed about happily. Farther up the slope, the carcass steamed in the sunlight. The man shook his head, frowning as he drew back his gaze to his body and reached down into one of his multitude of pockets. He found and pulled on his gloves. They fit snugly onto his smooth hands. A little too snugly, even. At least they weren’t too loose, like last time. An ugly job, this was. As he stretched the ends of his coat arms over his gloves, he inhaled deeply. Mistake. He gagged. He stumbled forward. He vomited, into the water, beside the boy. Mistake. He gagged again. Fell to his knees. Not much came up, as he’d eaten no sooner than three days before. Some time later, some very long time later, his name crashed through the air. He leaned back onto the balls of his feet, remaining on his knees, as he wiped his mouth with the rough fabric of his gloves. He inhaled deeply. For a moment he held his breath. Slowly, very slowly, he closed his eyes, allowing his neck to relax, his head leaning back. Somewhere far above birds sung a midday chorus. No, a yell of warning. “Fenst!” As his eyes unclasped, he exhaled audibly, his shoulders sagging. The dirtiest jobs were also the most imperative. Fenst reached over his own bile to gather what remained of the boy. But even he began to lose his senses. His fellows heard but a splash.

I open my eyes in a daze. The extents of my vision are filled with blue and white. My eyelids flutter, and I struggle to keep them open. A shift in my vision, and suddenly my eyes shut tight from the brightness. My head swims. My ears ring, my thoughts echoing against them, pressuring my brain into a syrupy maelstrom. Still death’s grasp prevents me from thinking real thoughts. Life remains a light just outside my reach, so bright and blinding, but so curiously remote, like a blinking star lonely in the nighttime sky. My eyelids flutter yet again, wet with tears, and life fades away.

So slowly.

So tenderly.

So very, very carefully.

Waving, a dreamy farewell.

The End