The Hunted

                                                                     The Hunted

            A mountain man named Clarke Garner trudged through the deep snow, clutching his precious rifle as he braved the cold winter air of the Rocky Mountains. He had been tracking a buck for days through the woods, seeing it only a few times beyond the range of his rifle. It was getting dark fast, and Garner knew he should set up camp, but he felt that he was closer than ever to his prey. Not willing to waste arduous time he had spent hunting this buck, he pressed on. As he moved through the forest, the eerie quietness of his surroundings heightened his senses. He could hear a rabbit bounding this way and that over the snow toward its burrow, see an owl soar from tree to lifeless tree, feel the snow gently fall on his matted brown hair and fur clothes, smell the deer as he got closer, and in his mind he imagined the taste of venison. Garner proceeded up a treacherous hill while slowly lowering himself to the ground as he neared the top. Garner crawled up to the crest of the hill and to his astonishment, there was the buck he had stalked for so long, upon a rock outcropping overlooking the valley below. There it was, like a king surveying his subjects from a castle. A blanket of snow was draped over the elks fur, and its size was what men like Garner dreamed of. The predator painstakingly neared his prey, eyes fixated on his target. Once in range, he brought his rifle to bear, sights centered on the vitals. Emptying his lungs, he cleared his mind and became one with his weapon. Gently, he squeezed the trigger. The hammer struck the gunpowder, spiraling the bullet down the barrel and shooting out with an earsplitting roar that echoed across the landscape. The buck shook from the impact of the bullet striking him, and collapsed dead, to Garners relief, unto the outcropping. The elated Garner leaped up and slogged through the deep snow to his kill. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he unsheathed his Bowie knife and proceeded to skin the animal. As he was doing this, Garner's attuned hearing caught wind of a very ominous sound. The sound of  string being pulled taut. An arrow punctured Garners side and he cried out in agony, clumsily hurling himself over the buck's body for cover. He shook from the throbbing pain that emanated from the wound as his mind went in a frenzy. To what little comfort he still had, Garner noticed that only a small amount of blood seeped from his injury thanks to the arrow. This invigorated him to take action. Adrenaline coursing through his body, he broke off a part of the arrow, allowing him to move more freely. Pressed up against the buck, he awkwardly grabbed for his rifle from around his back and reloaded another bullet into it. Then, Garner took a peak over the carcass into the unknown, searching for his killer. As if on cue, another arrow zoomed toward him. Garner quickly ducked back and the arrow drilled into the animal, the arrowhead sticking through the buck, stopping inches from Garner's face. As he laid there, there was a break in the clouds, and sunlight shone through, as if the heavens were looking down on him. Garner used this moment to take his Bowie knife hold it just above the elk. Looking at the knife, he could see a reflection of what was in front of him. Tilting the knife left and right, he tried to find the bowman. As he scanned the area, he shook at what he saw in the reflection. It was an indian. The native american was slowly moving toward him, about to finish the kill. The moccasins he wore allowed him to move silently as he approached Garner. The warrior wore buckskins like Garner and had long black hair. His face was covered in war paint, giving the warrior an intimidating look. The mountain man let the warrior get closer. The snow had started to come down relentlessly,  obscuring the hunter as he neared. Garner sheathed his knife, and  readied his rifle. The mountain man peaked up and fired his gun at the warrior. At the same time the warrior let loose and arrow.  The mountain man took an arrow to his shoulder, the warrior a bullet to his hip. The wounded men looked at each other and drew their knives. The mountain man yelled and pulled the arrow out of his shoulder. He lumbered toward the wounded warrior. The native american sprang up and attacked him with his knife, delivering quick slashes across the mountain man's chest. Garner tried to attack with his brutal Bowie knife but the warrior was too fast. He backed up toward towards the outcropping, the warrior followed him. Garner charged, so did the indian. Grabbing the indian by his hair, he managed to stab him in the ribcage. The indian let out a cry and drove his blade into the mountain man's stomach. Garner fell over the dead buck and unto the edge of the outcropping. The warrior smiled in ghoulish delight as Garner lay defenseless. He leaped upon Garner to finish the job. With his last ounce of strength, he manhandled the indian and propelled him over the edge. The warrior screamed as he fell into the valley below. Garner laid on the edge,  letting out a breath of relief, he let the snow fall peacefully on him.