The morning frost sat on the grass, awaiting ruin.
A silent landscape of cool. Icicles graced to branches, unweilding to the weak attempts of the pallid winter sun.
"Winter."
Clouds of air followed my deep breathing. Inhaling hurt my lips, the cold like tiny needles poking at my flesh, searching for a weakspot. My hands, too, were suffering: mutilated ice cubes inside my deerskin mittens.
In my left hand I held a spear, hand-crafted, moulded to fit my grip. It shivered in my hand, finely attuned to my movements. It knew I was waiting. Waiting...
...A twig snapped to my left, shattering the icy perfection of the still winter world. Prey was comeabout. I moved panther-like towards the sound. My footfalls were quiet, my breathing shallow, my scent downwind, my hair tied back from my face in preparation.
A doe nipped at the frozen greenery. Her delicate bone structure was blatant to any observer, her quiet beauty as subtle as any mammal's. Deer were among my favourite animal to hunt. Their grace was uncompareable, their challenge worthwhile.
It was a game, the hunt. A game which I won more often than I lost.
She moved towards me a little, falling into a false lull of peace as she searched for an edible patch of grass. Her hooves left dainty imprints in the snow, nice to look at, but to be destroyed soon enough.
I bent forward, judging the distance between my spear and her flank. Doable.
I hefted my spear forward slowly, no sudden moves at to alert her.
And the spear was off, soaring through the air like a bird in flight, choosing its landing spot and sticking true to its course.
Another day, another meal.
A quiet prayer to send the doe into a better place, and I could return to my hearth to feed my sisters.
"Winter."
It still sounded the same, even after I'd killed her.
~H
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