𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 | 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧

𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 *

Before long, the scenery grew familiar, as you had traveled relatively far under night's heavy cloak. All the mosquitos that buzzed your ears all night seemed to blow off to oblivion, and before long, you found yourself entering the cedar grove. If you were already here, there was no harm in taking a few bits of cedar for the road.

A smudging might grant the sweet dreams Sunny had wished for you.

"Should we rest here for a moment?" you asked, and the Ripper responded with a slight nod.

You wasted no time wandering to your cedar tree, setting your bow in the clover, and picking off a few branches.

"What you doin', kid?" Kenny asks.

"Collecting cedar. I burn it through my house to–" but the snapping of twigs stopped your voice and sent you searching for the tree line.

Your entire body tensed as you prepared to find Jean waiting in the shadows, but it wasn't him.

Instead, you found a beautiful doe staring straight back at you. The slender creature stood firm on the edge of the clearing with a back tall enough to reach your waist and lashes long enough to tickle your heart. She remained calm at her end of paradise as you relaxed into yours. You kept still, holding your breath so as not to frighten her. The deer stepped out deeper into the groove before dipping her head. She happily grazed on the soft carpet that lined the floor, no longer caring that you occupied her space.

"Kid," the Ripper whispered loudly, "Quick–while its head's down. Take a shot."

The doe? But you weren't expecting to kill a deer. You expected to kill a raccoon.

Nonetheless, you dropped your trimmings and slowly bent down to recollect your weapon. Pulling an arrow from the quiver strung to your back, you set the end in the string.

The creature trusted you enough to leave her unharmed as she ate, yet you still prepared to kill her. You knew that people hunted to survive as you ate meat yourself, but a pang of guilt ran through you, unlike the sensation you felt shooting at candles and raccoons.

But you breathed as Sasha's instructions flooded your mind again, and you released the arrow all the same.

"Nice shot!" the Ripper congratulated you as you stood in horror.

There she was, the gentle deer that moved your lessons forward with her entrance, falling to the ground with an arrow jutting out from between her ribs. Her anguished cries were so gut-wrenching that you nearly covered your ears to block out Death's final calls, but shock kept your hands wrapped snugly around the bow and its string.

It will be over soon, you thought as you watched the poor creature writhe and leak blood.

But that was not the case. Being unburdened with your same hesitation, the Ripper slid the knife from his hip, closed the distance, and extended the instrument to you.

"You best slit the beast's throat. Otherwise, it'll suffer," he said.

You continued to watch the blood flow down the doe's stiff coat with each pump of her failing heart the closer you stepped with the knife in hand. A thick, black puddle pooled in the fur, and you knew if you dared to peer at your reflection in her blood, the stars would taint themselves in red hues for the rest of the night.

You reached for the sweet deer, brushing her warm back to give some final comfort. She looked up at you, her eyes glazed over yet still so full of trust and little whines still spilling from her lips. The sounds grew softer the longer you ran a hand over her back until she almost appeared at peace in her shallow breaths.