A Morrigan

At this point in the season, the trees were green but in no way beautiful. From the timber line up to the recent snowfall midway down the mountain, a summer green was still coarse and rich, but prophetically haunted, almost infected throughout with highlights of red. If you were to look closer, in between the pines were orange aspens, and clusters of budding white bear grass, even the yellow of Oregon berries. They all swayed slightly to a northern wind, and when it settled, were still again, as if they wanted to be beautiful. If one couldn't see deep enough, then, maybe they would think so. In time though, it was the red that remained deeply prominent, and from what, there was no discernible rhyme or reason.

    It had been a year since the last hunt. All the scents and signs of a previous time had either become something new or disappeared altogether. The elk did not remember, or if they did remember, chose to forget. They were two days late this year, but sometimes were, and it made no difference. A harem of about three females were the first to offer themselves into the clearing, unaware that thirty yards away they were being sighted from a pair of men crouching behind a blind, and a good thirty yards more, by a pair of a man and a woman. From the blind came a bellow, correctly labeled as a bugle, organic enough that it didn't even caution the females. It's purpose was to encourage the bull into a rage, and it did so very well. The females had more sense, and lingered closer to the tree line, but when the bull came, it had no fear or sense. Evolutionarily speaking, it was bred not too. Instead, he came headstrong, shoulders high and bulked in beauty. If there had a been a challenger, then he was built to oppose it, with his rack about three feet on each end and drawing muscles broad like boulders. There was no better bull to kill. This year, Nate had first shot, because last year it had gone to Wes, and the year before to Jacob, so he took his time in examining the animal, and the best possible way to kill it.

    Nate waited for the animal to turn and open a shot path into the shoulder. The females were not as brave as the males, and they grew cautious, ears up and alert; if one were to reason why, it would have to be that they remembered. Or, it could be, that the females were not as inclined to forget.

    Nate had picked the further blind by mistake, so he needed to be perfect from that range if he were take the bull down without a chase. He knelt on a fallen ponderosa for leverage and sighted a direct path into the heart. It was right before he could squeeze the trigger that he felt a cold pressure on the back of his neck. And he turned to see the barrel of Adrian's rifle primed and ready to fire.

    Adrian had never shot a rifle, this was clear by the way she held it awkwardly near her face. If she had fired, the recoil would kick back into her eye and possibly kill her. But too, if she fired, Nate's head would be torn to pieces, so there was a clear incentive to turn around and to take the situation serious.

    The day was cold, enough to keep snow on the mountains and to remind Nate of the anger Adrian had clearly not forgotten. Her cheeks were bright red and there was steam rising in a diagonal aura from all around her. It was clear that she wanted to kill him. Her intention was to shoot him dead, but also to speak, so this gave Nate hope. He set his own rifle aside and gave his attention. She used the rifle point to pin him against the ponderosa, like a cat to a rabbit.

    "Did you fuck her?" she asked. She spoke low enough not to raise caution below, but it gave a rare and unconditional sentiment of restraint and ferocity to her tone, as if unwound from a depth greater than rage. "Did you fuck her? I wont ask again."

    Nate had no intention to get up, but still she pressed the rifle hard enough to cut into the skin. The question was always this sharp, no matter the situation, and wether she held a rifle or not, it was a question that could not be answered so simply. One answer led to another in a vicious cycle that had many beginnings, but only one end.