Hunted

I stood in the clearing, enjoying the sunlight and the quiet of the day, when I smelled it. Something foul. Something was in the forest that did not belong there.

At first, I brushed it off to my paranoia. I had a lot on my mind, after all. I bent down to the creek and took a long drink, letting the coolness of the water to quench my parched throat. Still, I kept my ears open for anything unusual.

Then I heard it—the snapping of a branch.

My head shot up. My heart pounded. I looked all around.

I saw nothing, but that was the problem—I saw nothing. No rabbits, no birds, nothing. Something was not right.

I knew what I had to do. I had to make a dash for the tree line. I would be safe among all the trees.

But what if it was waiting there for me?

I pranced my hooves; my ears pulled back. Then, another branch snapped, and instinct took over.

I ran.

The ground rushed beneath my feet. Flowers, weeds, and grass alike blurred as I darted toward the trees. Just another few hundred feet, and I would be safe—

Boom!

Something pierced my side, and I tumbled to the ground.

My breathing became labored, my tongue lolling out of my mouth, and pain radiated from my side. I could not lift my head to see, but I knew that blood gushed from my wound. I could no longer think, the pain was so great, but I knew that this was the end.

My eye rolled to see two figures approaching me. Two humans. One still had his gun raised, as though he was not sure that I would be dead in minutes.

“You idiot,” I heard his companion say in my final breath, “that doe was pregnant!”