The Hunted

The fog came. It slipped in on gossamer wings. A fog rising slowly from the ground.
I could see the mist thickening and swirling a short distance from me in the forest. I could feel the life around me.
I hoped the fog would hide me for a bit. I could hear the hunters coming through the woods just like they had the time before.
Last time, I had sprung from my hiding place. Bounding 6 feet at a time, right, left, BANG. I was dead.
Now, this time, I strolled casually from my place of rest, raising my twelve point antlers high. These hunters could no longer harm me. I strolled casually into their camp.
I couldn't help laughing to myself as the hunters ran away screaming, after they tried to shoot me and the bullets just went on through.

Perhaps, it wasn't so bad being dead after all.


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