DefiantAllomancer

I've been working on a short story, and I'm super nervous to share it, but I kind of want to know what you think. I haven't edited it or proofread it yet.

I hope you enjoy reading it (if you read it).

The Hunter

            When I was three, my mother died, and so my father and I became a team, just the two of us, against the world. We would pretend we were superheroes, and he would lift me up above his head, and spin me around, and I would laugh, and laugh, and scream in pure exhilaration. He was my best friend in the whole world, and I was his. I never went to school. My father taught me everything I needed to know: how to tie different kinds of knots, how to set snares and traps. We made cabbage stews, and cooked venison steaks over a fire. 

            It was during the summer of my seventh year that my father decided I was old enough to go hunting with him for the first time, and it was marvelous, until, of course, he shot an animal. I had been enjoying the peaceful walk through the woods, my father resting his gun on his shoulder, and my hands wrapped tight around my bird guide. But as soon as the first shot rang out, like thunder sounding from my father’s weapon, I had to clap my hands over my ears, dropping the book, and fell to the ground, crying out in terror. My scream matched that of the doe’s, and even when it was all over, the sound of our perfect, horrified harmony still seemed to ring, shrill, and hideous, but at the same time, beautiful. He didn’t take me hunting with him for a long time after that.

            The second time I went with him, I was reluctant, but I was excited, because I told myself I would be brave for my father, and maybe I would even shoot a deer of my own. I was thirteen years, and tall for my age, so tall that I reached my father’s ears, and he was the tallest person I knew, though that meant very little, considering the only people I knew were the people I saw at the small market I went to every week to buy vegetables. We hiked along the rapidly flowing river, but stayed away from it so we wouldn’t fall in. Fingering the long hunting rifle I held, I turned to my father. “Do you think there will be any good deer out today?” He grunted. “Um,” I said timidly. “If I see one, am I allowed to shoot at it?”

            “It’s a deer.” He shrugged. “That’s what they’re for. Now be quiet.” He was always like this when he was hunting: short tempered, and focused so hard on the task that he barely seemed to notice you were there. I nodded and looked at my gun, then held it up and pointed it at a tree. “Bam!” I cried, and jerked the gun. “Pow!” Jumping, I pivoted, and fell into the river. Immediately, the force of the current crashed into me, and I was dragged under the water, scraping my skin on stones and branches. Water filled my mouth, my nose, and I choked, trying to breathe. I forced my head above water, floundering desperately for a handhold. 

        “Father!” I gurgled, coughing and spluttering as I grabbed a tree root, but as he neared me, standing at the edge of the river, he eyed the water, and then shifted his gaze. I followed his eyes to where the river seemed to run into a sort of cavelike formation of rocks. I saw it in his eyes before it happened, and I whimpered, the entirety of my body’s strength draining from me at once. He backed away from the river’s edge, and shook his head, and my last finger slipped from the tree, and I was whisked away, into the waiting maw at the end of the river. The last thing I saw, as my head came back above the surface, was my father’s face, devoid of emotion, and darkness enfolded me. 

            There is no pain in death, no fear, just a strange emptiness, a void in one’s mind. There’s an almost pleasant feeling of calm, if letting go, and letting a great burden slide from one’s shoulders. Slowly, my eyes opened, and a great, bright light blinded me. Before me was the face of a beautiful doe, with large, dark eyes. She looked at me timidly, hesitantly, but she didn’t seem afraid. Just curious. Then, a drop of water fell onto her face, and she rippled. I gasped softly, and so did she. It turned my head, and her movements were identical to mine. Holding up a hand, I looked at it in horror, for all I saw was a hoof, waving as I waved my hand. 

            A dream, I reassured myself. But as I walked unsteadily toward the pond I had been lying next to, I realized I was walking on all fours, and my arms and legs were the same length, and it was all too real. I’m a deer! I thought, panic flooding through me, then I ran, leaping gracefully through the bushes, toward the trail, a winding path, made by my father and I by clearing plants away from the earth. I heard a faint click, and my ears twitch. Looking up, I saw a tall man poking a gun out from behind a tree, and pointing it at me. All thoughts disappeared, and my adrenaline took over. Scampering wildly through the trees, I looked for cover, but the thunder crashed, and I felt an excruciating burning in my right hind leg. My vision went red, and I stumbled, falling to the ground and trying to pull myself to my feet. The pain was so terrible I felt as if every inch of me was screaming in agony. A rustling warned me the hunter was coming, and I froze, pretending I was dead. 

            The seconds passed, each feeling longer than the last, until, finally, his large, rough hands began to lift me off the ground. With a wild cry, I turned and bit him on the arm. He dropped me, and I scrambled to my feet, reared up on my back legs, and with a last burst of strength, slammed my front hooves into his chest. He flew backward, the back of his head crashing into a large, mossy boulder with a deafening CRACK. Thick, dark blood streamed down the rock, and his eyes stared emptily into nowhere. Stumbling, I fell to the ground next to him and as my vision went black and my body was severed from my mind’s control, I caught a glimpse of the hunter’s face. My father. Screaming, I died. 

The End.