The flashlight beam shakes as Jonathan steps into the clearing, then stops cold.

A deer lies in the leaves, still alive, chest rising too fast, legs trembling. Blood slicks its side, the wound torn and wrong. The sound it makes is thin and broken, full of panic. Jonathan’s grip tightens around the revolver in his hand.

“Oh… no,” he breathes.

He moves closer, scanning the trees, the ground, everywhere at once. This isn’t a hunting accident. He knows that instantly. His jaw tightens as the deer thrashes weakly, suffering.

Jonathan raises the revolver, hands unsteady. He swallows hard, forcing himself to breathe. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, voice barely there, eyes fixed anywhere but the deer’s face.

Before he can pull the trigger, something yanks the deer backward.

Leaves explode into the air. The animal is dragged violently into the bushes, its cries cutting off mid-sound. Branches snap. The clearing is suddenly empty.

Jonathan freezes, heart slamming against his ribs.

“What—” His voice drops to a whisper. He slowly lowers the revolver, staring at the torn path in the leaves. “Did you see that?”

The woods feel closer now, heavier. Jonathan steps back instinctively, positioning himself in front, revolver raised again, breath shallow.