of Lad even more.
“Home before dark, remember?” Grandma Neena called out to me as I left the house. Unlike Mom, she never argued with me about hiking. She got it—she was an outdoors girl, too. Of course, she had no idea my enthusiasm for the woods these days had nothing to do with the flora and fauna.
“I will. Don’t worry,” I called back.
This time I took a different approach, trying first to find Lad’s nest hideaway. No luck. I walked the paths calling his name, feeling more than a little foolish. Finally, not knowing what else to do, I went back to the spring-fed pool where I sat in the soft ferns, plucking the fronds apart leaf by leaf, listening, watching, waiting. Same pointless activities as yesterday. It was official—I was pathetic.
And I was done. I got up and brushed myself off, picking through the low brush back toward the path.
Maybe his parents had found out about all the reading and grounded him. Maybe he was too busy with home schooling. Maybe he just didn’t care if he ever saw me again. I had no way of knowing why he didn’t show up. It was only after I started hiking home that I got my answer.
Frustrated and uninterested in nature by this point, I took the main footpath toward the house instead of venturing off it and exploring, as I’d done on the way to the pool. It was getting late, the afternoon sun quickly sinking into the treetops. I picked up my pace. Sure, I was confident in the woods— before dark.
About halfway home, I spotted something out of place through the pines and dogwoods and sweet gum trunks. I couldn’t tell what it was—large, brown, motionless. Slowing down, I moved cautiously toward the mysterious shape.
The loud buzz of flies made my skin crawl. My brain finally registered what my eyes were seeing right as the smell hit me. A deer carcass—a doe. Oh, my stomach did not feel good. Holding my arm over my face, I pressed my nose deep into my shirtsleeve as I circled her lifeless body.
Seeing the gunshot wound in her neck shocked me. Deer season had ended months ago, and no one was supposed to hunt on our land ever. It looked like she’d been killed no more than a day ago. I hadn’t heard any rifle fire. Must have happened last night while we were all away from home.
I stood there debating what to do next. Call the Sheriff’s office? Tell Mom?
I immediately decided against both options, knowing either would be the absolute death of any future hikes. Mom would ban me forever from the woods if she ever thought illegal “hunters” had been on our property.
The sound of movement behind me broke my deliberation. My stomach went watery as I heard a low rumbling growl. I whirled around. A coyote. My legs locked as another growl, equally as menacing, joined the first.
The second coyote appeared from the underbrush, flanking its mate. Both of them had teeth bared, hackles up, and were staring directly at me. With my back to the slain doe, I had no doubt what had drawn the coyotes there. I was standing between them and their feast. My scent must’ve been overpowered by the smell of decomposing flesh until they got close.
I’d heard coyotes rarely attacked people, and in fact, would cower in the presence of a human. Someone forgot to tell these two.
I saw no sign of cowering. The small part of my brain still capable of it searched my memory for the appropriate action. Was I supposed to play dead or make loud noises? I couldn’t remember which, and I really didn’t want to make the wrong choice.
What I wanted was to step out of the way, or more accurately, run as far and as fast as possible out of the way, and let them have at the dead deer. I took an experimental half-step backward with one foot. The coyotes snarled louder and stepped forward several paces.
A few more steps in my direction by the pair, another step in retreat by me, and my feet stumbled on the doe’s legs. My back scraped a thick tree trunk. There was no escape for me now.
My pulse
“Home before dark, remember?” Grandma Neena called out to me as I left the house. Unlike Mom, she never argued with me about hiking. She got it—she was an outdoors girl, too. Of course, she had no idea my enthusiasm for the woods these days had nothing to do with the flora and fauna.
“I will. Don’t worry,” I called back.
This time I took a different approach, trying first to find Lad’s nest hideaway. No luck. I walked the paths calling his name, feeling more than a little foolish. Finally, not knowing what else to do, I went back to the spring-fed pool where I sat in the soft ferns, plucking the fronds apart leaf by leaf, listening, watching, waiting. Same pointless activities as yesterday. It was official—I was pathetic.
And I was done. I got up and brushed myself off, picking through the low brush back toward the path.
Maybe his parents had found out about all the reading and grounded him. Maybe he was too busy with home schooling. Maybe he just didn’t care if he ever saw me again. I had no way of knowing why he didn’t show up. It was only after I started hiking home that I got my answer.
Frustrated and uninterested in nature by this point, I took the main footpath toward the house instead of venturing off it and exploring, as I’d done on the way to the pool. It was getting late, the afternoon sun quickly sinking into the treetops. I picked up my pace. Sure, I was confident in the woods— before dark.
About halfway home, I spotted something out of place through the pines and dogwoods and sweet gum trunks. I couldn’t tell what it was—large, brown, motionless. Slowing down, I moved cautiously toward the mysterious shape.
The loud buzz of flies made my skin crawl. My brain finally registered what my eyes were seeing right as the smell hit me. A deer carcass—a doe. Oh, my stomach did not feel good. Holding my arm over my face, I pressed my nose deep into my shirtsleeve as I circled her lifeless body.
Seeing the gunshot wound in her neck shocked me. Deer season had ended months ago, and no one was supposed to hunt on our land ever. It looked like she’d been killed no more than a day ago. I hadn’t heard any rifle fire. Must have happened last night while we were all away from home.
I stood there debating what to do next. Call the Sheriff’s office? Tell Mom?
I immediately decided against both options, knowing either would be the absolute death of any future hikes. Mom would ban me forever from the woods if she ever thought illegal “hunters” had been on our property.
The sound of movement behind me broke my deliberation. My stomach went watery as I heard a low rumbling growl. I whirled around. A coyote. My legs locked as another growl, equally as menacing, joined the first.
The second coyote appeared from the underbrush, flanking its mate. Both of them had teeth bared, hackles up, and were staring directly at me. With my back to the slain doe, I had no doubt what had drawn the coyotes there. I was standing between them and their feast. My scent must’ve been overpowered by the smell of decomposing flesh until they got close.
I’d heard coyotes rarely attacked people, and in fact, would cower in the presence of a human. Someone forgot to tell these two.
I saw no sign of cowering. The small part of my brain still capable of it searched my memory for the appropriate action. Was I supposed to play dead or make loud noises? I couldn’t remember which, and I really didn’t want to make the wrong choice.
What I wanted was to step out of the way, or more accurately, run as far and as fast as possible out of the way, and let them have at the dead deer. I took an experimental half-step backward with one foot. The coyotes snarled louder and stepped forward several paces.
A few more steps in my direction by the pair, another step in retreat by me, and my feet stumbled on the doe’s legs. My back scraped a thick tree trunk. There was no escape for me now.
My pulse
Similar Books
