What She Found in the Woods

As he cradles the back of my head and lifts my weight to lay me down on the ground, I think of the girl he’ll meet at his Ivy League school. How she’ll marvel at her luck. If she’s smart. If she’s true. If she’s everything that I’m not.

I’m not saying no, but Bo will only go so far. We’re still learning each other. We’re still learning ourselves. I don’t have enough experience to know what I like yet, but it seems as if everything he does is what I would have asked for had I known anything about it. Nothing is uncomfortable or awkward with him. Nothing he does is something he saw on Internet porn. It all flows, one thing into another. It’s seamless and seemingly random but guided by an invisible force. Like leaves on the wind. It might not be intercourse, but it is definitely making love.

I’m a screamer. Didn’t see that coming.

He falls asleep almost immediately afterwards, which is half infuriating, and half gratifying. I’m either not interesting enough to stay awake for, or I’m so damn amazing, his brain needs to shut down for a while in order to process.

He doesn’t snore.

I am awake. I am more awake than ever. I can hear everything. Moisture pattering through the leaves. Maybe it’s a light rain, or maybe the leaves are just breathing out water. It’s hard to tell when you’re on the bottom level of a rainforest. I hear a birdcall. Time passes. I lie on my side in the crook of Bo’s arm. The warm weight of him presses against my back. I’d rather yank out a tooth than give this up.

And then . . .

An enormous buck wafts out of the shadows from behind a great, mossy tree less than a hundred yards away. His thick antlers are only half grown and still covered in summertime velvet, but his body is so large that the lack of sound he makes creates a disconnect in the mind. Like seeing a ghost.

The buck dips his head to graze.

We must be downwind, Bo and I. The buck has no idea we’re here, our naked bodies obscured by ferns. This is just the kind of kill Bo and his family need. Without it, they might go hungry.

If I wake Bo, he might unintentionally startle the buck. I’m lying on my left side, so my left eye is partially obscured by the leaf litter and the ferns. Just beyond my hand is the bow and quiver. The bow slips easily into my right hand. I take a breath and let it out before I ease myself towards the quiver.

The buck keeps grazing.

I slip an arrow out and, staying low, I shift my weight oh-so-slowly until my knees are under my torso. In yoga they call it Child’s Pose, but in my version I have a deadly weapon in my hands.

Drip, drip, drip, is the only sound.

I rise up on to my knees and draw in one motion. The buck looks me in the eye as I loose my arrow.

He falls.

He doesn’t bellow or screech. The only thing I can hear at this distance is the sound of his body crashing to the ground.

I jump up, and I feel Bo startle and jump up behind me.

‘What happened?’ he yells.

I’m too dumbstruck to speak yet. I point towards the fallen buck with his bow. Facing the buck, we both hear another sound coming from directly behind us.

‘No way!’ yells a young woman’s voice.

‘Raven?’ Bo says disbelievingly.

His sister strides out from the deep cover of the mottled forest gloom. She’s moving fast, and as she passes us, I can see she’s covered in mud to camouflage her outline and her scent.

‘How did you do that?’ she growls over her shoulder in my direction.

Bo looks at me, lost. I shrug back, and he and I pull on our clothes, then race to catch up with his sister, who is already crouching down next to the buck.

She inspects the fallen beauty. ‘Right through the eye,’ she whispers. ‘How?’

They’re both looking at me. The buck’s lungs heave out a death rattle in a wet rush of falling tissue and conquered life. The buck lies still. And that weight, or presence, or hum – whatever it is that separates the living now from the dead forever – it’s gone.

Raven is still staring at me, waiting for some kind of explanation. Her distrust is mingled with curiosity and unwelcome respect. I don’t want respect for this.

‘I guess I’m good at killing things,’ I admit, ashamed, looking at the corpse at my feet.

I turn and try to walk away, but Bo catches my arm gently and leads me back to the buck. I look into his eyes as he places my hands on the buck’s flank.