No Way Out

Chapter 2- Hunted

After my little teasing spell, Daryl and I continued deep into the forest, so far that the whole atmosphere was darker than before, the leaves whispering in the wind. What little sunlight shone though the tree canopy did nothing to counter the murk of the forest floor.

Daryl was slightly in front as he tracked our game, with me keeping a close eye on the surroundings. We'd lapsed into a comfortable silence, with occasional comments when he studied animal tracks, or to warn him if I was to loose an arrow, usually at a squirrel or rabbit.

We'd been tracking for about an hour, further from the camp than anyone else was allowed, for safety reasons. The few small rabbits and squirrels I'd bagged were slung around my waist, tied at the legs by some rope.

My legs were complaining and sweat was dripping from my forehead due to the humidity under the tree canopies. I picked my footsteps with caution, not wanting to screw up and alert every animal in the vicinity that we were here.

Or alert anything...else.

Daryl held his hand up and I stopped abruptly.

We stood over looking a small slope in the forest floor, protected from sight by a tree with low hanging branches that easily parted under Daryl's hand.

He put a finger to his lips and motioned for me to slowly come closer. I crouched down and approached, stopping beside his upright frame. There, grazing calmly, was a doe, lapping at the stream that ran through. She was relatively small, yet a rotund belly was visible.

Our prize wasn't the doe.

It was the large buck that strode into the space beside her, majesty like something I'd never seen. My eyes widened in surprise.

"Looks like dinner's on us tonight," I muttered to myself.

Daryl carefully readied his crossbow, and I followed suit, drawing an arrow from my quiver.

The calls of birds from above acted as the perfect cover for our footsteps as we made our way down the slope, him heading for the bushes on the left of the two deer, me for the trees on the right. I mentally cursed as my boot caught on some loose roots, but I grasped at the tree trunk quick enough to stop me from eating shit.

A long, calming breath had me relax, and I jumped up and grabbed a large tree branch with my left arm, swinging my body forward a few times. My arms barked in protest, but I lifted myself up. Throwing my bow arm over the branch, I grunted as I dragged my body up until I could safely swing my legs up.

I wasn't that far off the ground, so getting down would be a piece of cake...in theory. I carefully inched towards the edge of the branch, the thickness of the actual platform helping immensely. Balancing out my footing, I tried not to wince at the groaning of the branch under my weight.

I poised my arrow and pulled the string of my bow semi- taught, aiming it for the buck's hind. It was important not to hold an aim to long, so simply prepping like this gave me time to look for Daryl. I could see him make his way towards cover, incredibly close to the deer, and I winced from tension.

It was Daryl's job to go for the bucks main artery in its neck, whilst I was to shoot its rear leg to slow it down if it tried to bolt. It was technique he told me about one day when we first realised there were deer is this forest, in anticipation that we might get an actual shot at one.

Daryl slowly edged from the bushes and half ran, hunched over, to the shelter provided by trees near to him. He was remarkably agile, which was one thing I thought I would never say about the rugged man.

He raised his crossbow and crept around the tree, his aim straight and true.

Just as he was about to shoot I noticed movement to his right.