/lit/ - Literature

Let’s try this one again (but with the correct word count):
>An archer makes an incredible shot

The small beasts barked as they gathered in the distance, the dawn raising a mist from the open field. He was upwind, so he must rely on his ears over scent. They had not yet entered his wood, but the horns and the large beasts’ clumsy hoofbeats would alert him when they do.

This was not his first time being pursued by these men. More tenacious than the packs of small beasts that prowl at night, bolder than the lone poachers who stalk these wood. These hunters could endure for days, and their small beasts would scour this wood for his scent.

With every encounter, he learned his pursuers better. He must never allow himself to be flanked by the small beasts, or steered into open field, always go deeper into the wood. His antlers could gouge and ward off a few small beasts, but not a pack. Never allow the men a clear line of sight, or they will throw barbs. He can hear them whistle past, and had dodged a few in the past by ducking his head and running at the first sound of a bow.

Being rutting season, he was full of restless courage. These woods lacked any other stags large enough to challenge his dominance, and he stirred for a fight. He pissed on a tree as he walked deeper into the wood. Let the small beasts smell him, he was lord of this wood. He let out a loud bellow as the barking intensified and the hoofbeats began to pound the forrest floor.

She tired of pheasant and grouse. Oh, it was nice going out with the pack and she’d bask in master’s praise for carrying the birds so carefully…but she longed for a proper chase! Foxes were fun as they duck and dodge, but stags were her favorite. Graceful, massive creatures with great tree branches growing from their heads that could hurt her if she got close. The forest air wafted out into the clearing, her nose filled with the a sweet scent of musk and vinegar; she shook and yawned in anticipation.

She wanted so badly to catch one this time. A nice long chase, hopefully, with twists and switchbacks and the stag would grow tired but she would still have energy. And before the horses even catch up she’d lunge at it’s neck and dodge it’s branches and take it down. And master would say ‘there’s a good girl’ and she’d eat raw meat off a plate under the table tonight!

The horn blew and she took off. She soon discovered the stag’s still wet markings on a tree and barked to alert the pack to gather his scent. As she dashed deeper into the wood, she wondered if the stag was also enjoying the chase.

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