Flat Willow froze, the first thrill of the hunt tingling each nerve. Only when the doe dropped her head to pluck up an acorn did Flat Willow take one more slow step.
A second doe stepped into his sight, a fawn by her side. Flat Willow waited until her head lowered; then he slipped behind the hole of a towering red maple.
The world faded as Flat Willow’s attention focused on the deer. Step by careful step, he closed the distance. He crossed the trail that led down to Oyster Shell Landing and eased into the lee of an ancient beech. Patiently, he edged his head around, seeing a young two-point buck no more than fifteen paces ahead. The buck pawed at the leaves, seeking to uncover buried beechnuts.
Flat Willow slid his left foot around the tree, and prepared for the shot. His heart strengthened as he shifted his weight and settled his right foot. Raising the bow, he pulled the arrow back to his ear, sighting down the slim shaft. One last breath filled his lungs; he centered the stone point on the deer’s back to compensate for the arrow’s drop.
This was the moment he lived for. You are mine!
The buck’s head jerked up, startled, ears pricked. The animal stared up toward the ridgetop, body tense.
As Flat Willow released his deadly shaft, the deer snorted and leapt away. The arrow arced through empty space and disappeared into the leaf mat beyond.
Flat Willow exhaled explosively. The deer raced away, white tails flagging.
In their wake he heard the thumping of moccasins, the whipping of branches, and the puffing of breath.
Flat Willow made a face and straightened. What silly fool would be running through the forest on a morning like this? From habit, he plucked another arrow from the bark quiver hung over his shoulder. Through the trees he glimpsed someone charging down the trail. The man leapt, slipped, and jumped in his headlong rush.
For an instant, Flat Willow considered hiding, then got a good look at the young man: High Fox, from Three Myrtle Village. Flat Willow rolled his eyes in disgust. Of all the people to meet today, none could have been as bad as High Fox. Red Knot’s eyes had always been for him, a mere stripling; and in contrast to a fine hunter like Flat Willow, why, there was just no comparison.
Flat Willow cocked his head, surprised when High Fox saw him and tried to stop short. He had a panicked look on his face, eyes wide. The youth’s right foot slipped out from under him, and he landed flat on his bottom, skidding in the leaves.
“High Fox! It’s just me. Flat Willow.”
High Fox gaped as he slid to a stop, glanced around as if for an escape route, and rose on trembling legs. He wiped his hands on the flap of his breech clout
“What’s the matter?” Flat Willow demanded. “Is it trouble?” He took a step up, and stopped when the ashen High Fox shook his head.
“No. N-No trouble.”
“But you were running like a madman,” Flat Willow declared suspiciously. “You ruined my hunt! Scared the deer.”
High Fox gave him a weak smile. “Sorry. I… I was just in a hurry, that’s all. Late. I’m late.”
“Late for what? It’s barely morning.”
“I know. I-I stayed too late at the dance last night. That’s all. I have to get back. Home, you see. I had… well, chores. Something for my father.”
Flat Willow frowned, reading the terror in High Fox’s face. “Go, then.”
High Fox tensed, his muscles knotted. Taking a deep breath, he seemed to regain some of his control. The smile still looked forced. “Sorry. I guess I must have looked pretty silly.”
“I’ve seen rabbits run faster, but not many.”
High Fox’s lips quivered as he descended the steep trail toward Flat Willow. “Deer, huh?”
“Some does, a fawn, and one nice little buck that was half a heartbeat from dead when you came crashing down the trail.”
“I’m sorry. Really, I am. I know how rare they are around the village.” The fragile smile died and High Fox’s eyes widened. What caused that glazed look, as if something had scared him half out of his skin? Had Copper Thunder figured out that the boy had been nosing around Red Knot? Or was he still upset about what had happened at Three Myrtle Village yesterday morning? Flat Willow had heard bits of the story bantered about before the dance last night. Apparently, a young girl named Sun Conch had begged him to marry her, and been rebuffed, harshly, by Black Spike.
“Are you all right?”
High Fox was no more than a step away. Every muscle trembled, and his breathing was labored. “I apologize for scaring the deer. Maybe, if you scout around, you can pick them up again. I’d try that way.” He pointed back the way Flat Willow had come.
“I just came from that way.”