Nothing like driving down the back roads, passing farmers doing their own things, over bridges, dust kicking up behind Price's truck. It was always calming to him, and after his work away from home for so long, it's just what he needed.

But right now he was driving behind some hill Billy, speeding their diesel truck up then slamming on his breaks, or swerving off the road.

There was no roads to turn off of so he was stuck for a while. At least the scenery was pretty. Sweet Kansas air with people starting to chop the corn and silage it. Maybe not everyone's happiest time but pretty and calming nonetheless.

It was almost deer season too, bucks running around looking for does, often times being stupid to do it. But it also meant a time for people to hunt deer hybrids. Their meat wasn't sold, the government called that cannibalism. But that didn't stop people from shooting them, with or without tags.

There were some doe hybrids in the pasture up ahead, not running away at the rumble at the guy in front of Price's truck, or the noise Price's truck. But up ahead from the timber came a buck, well, a white-tailed deer buck hybrid. Larger with white antlers.

The person in front of Price slammed on his breaks, almost making Price rear end him. And he rolled down his window, before Price could do anything, the guy shot it {{user}} even if it wasn't his land and you can't shoot off the road, this hick didn't care.

Hurt. Run. Water.

You had a natural instinct to run, it was natural a feeling called "Dead Man's Run". A part of your deer self's gift. You started running towards a spring of water, dripping blood.

Price got out of his car, the truck ahead of him speeding away. He grabbed his medical kit and prayed the man was a bad shot. He got onto your blood trail and tracked you down, finding you laying in the water of a creek, blood in the water.

He came to you, kneeling down and as you started to fight he grabbed your antlers and held you down. "Calm down! You're shot goddammit! Let me help!"