Hunted

The Hunter

The hunter had lost the trail.

Snow falling, shifting. Tracks erased in shadows, the last smear of daylight closing like a wound. The woods in this part of Wisconsin could swallow a man whole if he didn’t keep his wits. He didn’t mind. The thought of going back to his truck, of driving into town, of people—loud and needy and curious—was worse. He wasn’t a people person. Never had been.

He found a small clearing, bordered by birch and pine, carpeted with frozen needles. He pitched his tent with the slow patience of someone who had nothing better to do. A fire followed: dry wood, kindling, the heat spitting sap from branches until it blistered, popped. He cracked a can of beer and drank.

The cold in the air made the aluminum bite his fingers.

By the second beer, the fire had become an animal: gold and red muscle twisting against black. By the third, the hunter saw something in the flames. Not elk. Not bear. A girl.

Her face. Exactly as it had been that night.

She had been standing on the side of the county road, thumb out, hair stiff with frost. He had thought she looked young. Reservation girl. Oneida. She’d asked him for a ride. Voice shaking in the cold. He’d said yes because he was a good guy. That’s what he told himself then. That’s what he told himself now.

The fire twisted; her face moved. He could see how she’d looked when she was laughing. Nervous. How she’d stopped laughing when he pulled over in the dark stretch past the turnoff.

It hadn’t been his fault. She had squirmed too much. Panicked. He’d been drinking then too. He’d just wanted her to stop. His hands on her throat had been to still her. Not to end her.

By the fourth beer, the hunter was talking out loud to the fire. “Doesn’t matter. No one cares. She was just a reservation girl. Probably a junkie. It’s not like—”

The words stopped in his throat.

Branches cracked at the tree line. Slow. Heavy.

From the dark emerged a buck.

Massive, an elk rack wide enough to crown a king, its breath steaming in the cold air. Its hide the color of wet bark, muscles sliding like cables under its skin. The hunter’s breath caught. A bull like this would be a prize worth remembering. Mounted above his mantel, glass eyes staring forever down.

He moved slowly, reaching for the rifle propped against the log. Firelight caught the polished metal. He raised it, aimed.

Perfect shot.

The buck staggered when the bullet hit. Sound echoed through the trees. But it didn’t fall.

It turned.

Slow. Deliberate, as if the shot had been a nudge instead of a wound. Eyes burned black. Mouth opened. Black oil and blood poured down its chin. From the hole in its ribs—where the bullet had gone in—thicker, darker liquid spilled, pooling beneath its hooves.

The hunter fired again.

The buck stepped forward.

Blood and oil smeared the snow with each pace.

He fired again. Again. Metal clicked empty.

The buck kept coming.

The hunter’s breath went ragged. He tried to reload, his fingers shaking, cartridges tumbling into the fire where they hissed and spit.

Movement came from behind the elk. The hunter froze.

She stepped into the light.

The girl.

She should not be here. Should not be alive.

But she was.

Hair black and heavy down her back, her jingle skirt bright red, catching firelight with every sway. Her face was exactly as it had been before he killed her—full, warm, alive.

And then he saw the legs.

Not human.

The fur of a deer, dark and slick, the delicate black hooves flashing as she walked forward.

She did not look at him. She went to the elk, laid her hand against its muzzle. The animal lowered its head until their foreheads touched. Her fingers came away wet and dark.

Something in the air changed.

The trees shifted.

From the shadows they came: more elk, more deer, dozens of them, eyes catching the firelight like shards of glass.

The girl turned her head then. Looked directly at him.

She smiled.

The animals broke into a run.

They hit him like a wave, the first blow stealing the breath from his lungs before the pain had even formed. Hooves crushed his chest, a sharp, concussive weight that broke bone with wet, splintering cracks. Antlers hooked into his arms and tore downward, peeling skin away in strips.

He tried to scream but his jaw snapped sideways under the kick of a hoof. Teeth shattered against each other. Blood filled his mouth, thick and metallic.

They trampled him into the frozen ground. His ribs gave way under their weight, caving in, puncturing something inside. Every breath was a choke. His legs were pulled apart, muscles splitting under the bite of teeth built to strip bark and tear flesh.

Snow beneath him turned to red slush. Steam rose from it.

They worked at him methodically, chewing, tearing, wrenching chunks of him free with their jaws. One set of antlers hooked into his abdomen, jerking upward until it opened him, spilling heat and color into the cold air. He felt his own guts slide against his hip before teeth found them, pulled, and the sensation of being tugged from the inside made his body convulse against the weight holding him down.

The girl moved slowly through the frenzy, untouched. Kneeled beside what was left of his face, her eyes calm and patient.

When her mouth opened, it widened beyond what was possible, jaw unhinging, teeth small but countless. She bent to his neck.

The bite was final.

Her teeth sank deep, found the artery, tore it open. Blood gushed hot against her chin and chest. She drank in long, greedy pulls, throat working hard, the sound of swallowing loud against the chorus of tearing and chewing all around them.

She didn’t stop until his heartbeat stuttered once, twice, and was gone.

When she had taken enough, she stood. Mouth black with his blood. She wiped nothing away.

Sun was rising, pale light cutting the tops of the trees. The animals drew back, their muzzles soaked red, pieces of him still hanging from teeth and antlers. The frenzy was over.

She turned and walked into the forest, the elk and deer moving with her. The trees closed behind them, leaving the clearing silent except for the fire, which popped and hissed softly, its light catching on the glistening scatter of what remained of the hunter.