[ WP ] A hunting story from the perspective of the prey

The moon is full on this night, and with it brings a certain sense of excitement. A gusty wind pushes against the tree tops and rustles the foliage around my hooves, bringing with it the joyous echoes of my surroundings. A squirrel regretfully forgets its place in the quite dark and rustles constantly, making me anxious for silence. As the moon sinks into the horizon I am nervous for the new day, my kin will not know that season is upon us. The sun will bring colors that my eye can not catch, bi-pedals will once again begin their march against us. My thoughts wonder as I catch the passing scent of a nearby doe, and although it is against my instinct the oak ridge puts me in tow. 
 
 The mating season has just begun and the females will be prepping for the cold winter and certainty of their sons. I shall make the short voyage to the doe's feeding grounds. I travel along a hedge row, eating quickly as I go, and then I stumble across the most unfamiliar scent. Another buck it must be, stealing blood lines from me. A quick cover of urine and scat, a rub and a scrape at that, will teach this young one not to come back. 
 
 A call rings soulfully out from the throngs of the forest, it is a doe for sure that is making this racket. If not the first the lesser will make himself present, stealing my opportunity to pass on my genetics. I bustle through the brush to understand the commotion, and climb up the ravine to catch a glimpse at my surroundings. To my left is nothing and to the right the same, but up in a tree is an odd looking leaf creature with a bow in his hand. My eyes met his and the tranquility ceased as a stinging pain ran through my ribs. I try for cover but am soon looking for water instead. That is how I ended up in this creek, dead. 

