The sun filtered through the ever growing birch forest, the squak of birds chattering, making a commotion over the footsteps of 3 souls walking through the woods. I was on a hunting trip with my targets. The Jameson family. There was a 22 year old girl, Sarah, armed with a hunting rifle and her younger brother Damien. He was 18, unarmed. He couldn’t stomach the thought of killing anything, sweet kid really. Unfortunately, they took up gambling, ran up fat stacks and was exposed with marked cards. Now the real winning is hovering over their naive heads at 10 thousand a piece. Sarah turned to me.
“I’m surprised you know how to hold that.” Gestured to the hunting rifle they provided me. “Most girls my age don’t know how to hunt.” She grinned . I smiled back.
“Trust me, I know my way around one of these bad boys.” I state back. It was exhausting keeping this look up. A hunting rifle is childs play, mediocre bullets and a fixed power scope. We’ve been walking around for 2, no. It was bordering 3 hours already and we haven’t come across a single animal. Probably cause these guys can’t walk silently. What were their shoes made out of? Fucking concrete? Luckily, I heard something. I reached over and stopped them, gesturing for them those lips. A few broken twigs to our left alerted me of a middle aged deer, unaware of us yet. She faced away from us about 200 yards away. An easy shot. Animals are easy, they just run away from loud noise in straight lines as fast as it can. I line Bambi’s pretty head in the crosshairs, pulling the trigger. The bullet slammed into the lower right side of the neck, and the deer took of sprinting. I sighs outloud, taking a few steps forward. What kind of shitty bullet drops 3 inches at 200? Wind resistance at that close? Fuckin hell. We take of after the deer, as I adjusted the scope. 12 clicks for the drop, 3 for wind. Zeroed in, I line the deer up once more. This time, it fell, a large thud kickin up some loose dirt. The perfect bait. I stopped running, an exaggerated pant as my targets kept going to check the kill.
“Nice shot!” Sarah yelled back, approaching the deer as I linned her blonde head in the reticle. The real hunt was about to begin.
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