3.1: Compassion

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Blood sprayed onto the snow as the deer hit the ground thrashing

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Blood sprayed onto the snow as the deer hit the ground thrashing.

The branches of the trees were hanging lower than usual, burdened by the weight of the several inches of snow the cold night had brought. The snow on the ground was letting off that satisfying crunch as it gave way to my winter boots; each step left a crisp footprint embedded in the snow. The bitter cold was seeping through the thin material of my gloves as I made my way towards the stilling creature. The sweet scent of pine that this forest often boded had been masked by the fresh spray of its blood.

That being said, in my current state I could barely discern any of the natural scents around me, let alone the simple smells that hid within these woods. Struggling to discern anything beyond the metallic tang, I focused on the light breathing emanating from the deer, as she struggled to comprehend the abrupt turn of events.

The body lay amongst decaying leaves, fallen earlier in the month. The trees themselves stood starkly and bare against the whiteness surrounding them, looming over the deer menacingly. I'd gazed at the four clear slices in its flesh that ran down its body - clean, I decided. She had done an advanced job this time.

We had followed this deer for miles; its path was easy to track in the heavy snow. It had made no effort to conceal the journey or itself, in fact, it didn't seem to mind we'd been following it at all, seemingly indifferent to our pursuit. We'd found her grazing peacefully in an area of grass that was sheltered by redwood trees and considered leaving her be. We had gazed upon the beautiful creature as it sought out food for itself but were forced to mourn for her all the same - my wife, Dhana, unable to control herself under the growing pressure of imminent starvation had transformed and lunged for her. The murmurs of the deer were the only noise within these woods for miles, but the graceful chirps she'd been emitting had been cut off sharply; only to be replaced by a sharp squeal.

I found myself averting my eyes and fixating my gaze on an orange-red flower that was defiantly managing to bloom past the snowfall, shining preciously alone despite the winter oppression. I couldn't bring myself to watch my wife being brought down to this level; forced to kill in the woods despite a deep aversion to it.

I had offered to go and hunt for her myself, but she had decided I was 'too young'. Too young to understand the consequence, to be precise enough to kill with enough respect for the animal, and to control myself after I'd spilt its blood. As the senior of us two, she had reason to suspect this to be the case, and I had no grounds to debate her on the matter.

As I heard Dhana release a soft whimper I raised my head just in time to see her brown fur disappearing beyond the tree line and watch the deer fall to the ground. Her fur was starkly different to my own; a luscious, deep brown, as opposed to the 'oatmeal' drab that I transformed with. Dhana had laughed the first time I'd transformed - she had gushed that she thought someone like me would be bestowed with a dark grey or black coat; that such a calming colour didn't seem to suit me. It had gotten to the point she had started calling me oatmeal anytime we had to hunt together.

Blood & Bone [Book Three of The City of Eternity Series] [✔]Where stories live. Discover now