Some say that angels walk among us, their presence guiding us throughout our lives. Others believe that they have a guardian angel, one that will protect them from harm in dangerous situation. Still others say that they have felt an angel's presence comforting them, at the burial or funeral of a loved one. And they may be right. There have been many stories and legends of guardian angels, protecting and guiding humans throughout their lives. But I'm not here to tell you of those. I'm here to tell you the story I witnessed. The story that has made me realize that there are angels, only they come in different shapes and sizes. Different forms, even.
There are also others who say that humans are poor judges of character, that they are not able to tell a human's true character, even when it is as clear as day. They say that the best judges are dogs and young children. That their simpler intelligence can see what our advanced cannot, that they can see a person's true intentions and motives. This is very true.
They are intelligent beings, maybe more so than us. We think that we can control them, tame the wild, but in the end, they prove us wrong. Sometimes, they can teach us lessons that are not taught in any school.
If I had to do it all over again, would I? If I could never meet her, that simple, pure being that changed my life, would I? No. I would never. Not for anything in the world. I would still make the same choices, the same decisions that cost me so much.
You may call foolish, stupid for making these decisions. But in the end, you may see why I made them. Perhaps, in the end, you would do the same thing I had. Making the same foolish mistakes.
I remember every detail of that day. No matter what I may forget or remember, I will always remember that day, to the day I die. The day when I met her. The day that would change everything that I had ever believed, everything I had ever known.
Sunlight barely filtered through the top branches of the oaks. A rich, earthy smell filled the air, and a cool gentle breeze caressed my face. This was what I loved about the forest. The quiet, the peace, the calm. This was the perfect way for me to spend my weekend. Lounging around in my favorite tree, exploring each of my old and familiar haunts. I stooped down, gently running my fingers along in an indention in the dirt. Tracks.
I clamber into the branches of a nearby oak, gripping the rough bark. Scrambling for a good hold, I pull myself up, fidgeting until I'm comfortable. I peer out from the branches, searching for my quarry, my target. A flash of reddish brown, a rustle of branches, the crunch of composting leaves beneath cloven hooves, all of these signs betray the deer, my soon-to-be-victim. I reach for my bow and draw an arrow out, fitting it in the drawstring. If done correctly, it will be a quick and painless kill.
The deer's long, keen ears flick in my direction. In an instant, the doe breaks into a bound, fleeing the danger lurking near. In one, swift motion, I draw back the arrow and let it fly. My arrow finds its target, striking the deer in the throat. A bellow of pain escapes the deer's lungs as its forelegs buckle beneath it. I slip off of my branch, landing on my feet. I slowly make my way to the deer. The most dangerous thing in the world is to approach a large, wounded animal. Even if it one as harmless and gentle as a deer.
The deer's eyes glaze over, the slow rise and fall of its flanks stilling. I crouch down beside it, my heart swelling with pride. Tanner will be proud that his lessons have paid off. I know he'll be pleased.
I pull the knife from by belt, the smooth wood of the handle feeling right in my hand. I lift it above my head, preparing to strike the final and fatal blow. This is the hardest part of the hunt. The part where you see the flash of fear in the victim's eyes, the pleading, begging look. For a moment, I almost can't bring myself to do it. But then I glimpse the arrow embedded in the deer's throat, and remind myself that the animal would die soon anyway. It would be kinder to put it out of its pain, out of its misery.
