The Hunters

While peacefully nuzzling through a thin layer of hardened snow close to the woodland, a sudden low-pitched noise made the old stag raise his head. Although such occurrences were infrequent at this time of year, he immediately recognised the sound from a baying pack. His senses became heightened.

Their howling increased in volume, and a gentle muscular quiver rippled along both flanks. One thing he learned over his long lifetime was that he must avoid encounters with those creatures at all costs. He turned towards the setting sun and location of his secluded overnight resting place, but an unwelcome sight greeted him. For rising in to view on the frosted hilltops crest, were a lengthy line of the pack's masters, who stood as though awaiting his arrival.

Despite the lowering red sun's glare, he noticed each of them held long slender lengths of wood with shining tips. These were just like those which had felled many of his previous herd when he led them. The howling behind became more intense. Pure instinct alerted him to know the pack would prevent any retreat, while their masters deny any access to the sheltering land beyond. Beneath him, the uneven thicker snow made progress sluggish, but at least may also impede his potential killers.

The stag cast his keen gaze across the line of masters. Most had precious little distance to run between. But there was little alternative. A quick death with them preferable then by the teeth of their hounds. However, as he studied the masters, an expanse of thick interlinked wooden spikes and posts became visible. Their the masters had planned their hunt to perfection, because there was no safe way of passage through this obstacle.

A distant movement made him turn his powerful neck. Leaping through the snow, an enormous pack appeared from a slight undulation in the ground and, though struggling, raced hard towards him. The masters' ambush was ready to close. The only opportunity to escape was by clearing the barrier close to the widest gap in the masters' line. Even then, any chance of survival was negligible. Once more he faced the silent line. Even though the ground rose before him, he still had the power to leap the obstacle, but voiding their lengths of wood was improbable. He tensed his muscles and prepared himself the same way as before his last trial against a younger interloper. That failure resulted in banishment - this time the outcome meant his certain death.

With hind legs tensed, he readied himself for a powerful rush towards the barrier, but fractionally before he did, something over to the left caught his attention. Between the tall and seemingly impenetrable trees, there was a slight break. He stared hard towards it. Two narrow ruts in the snow lead into the trees, leaving a slightly stained trail exposed. Over many years' experience, he gained the ability to judge distances accurately and these ruts were wider than his antlers' expanse.

Imperious and steady, while moving towards the trees, he maintained a composed stride through the packed snow. A glance towards his intended killers revealed the pack noticeably closer and several of their masters missing.

There was no alternative. He had to go inside the trees.

With his proud head lowered, he raced towards the dark uninviting mass of wood. Unafraid of death, whatever fate befell him, he would account well for himself. Now it was merely a question of time before the pack's leaders caught him. Death at the hands of their masters would be the sole release from that final and bloody encounter.

With his antlers scraping between the immovable trees on either side, the stag continued. And using the fading light, followed the short-rutted trail through the darkening wood. Unable to see them. He sensed the baying pack undoubtedly narrowing the distance, but turning in order to check would prove fatal. Essential gasps of air kept his taught muscular frame invigorated and fed muscles for their ultimate challenge.

 Through the sullen shadows, further ahead he saw a slight improvement in light. As the ruts led towards it, he pressed on.

Without any warning, he found himself clear of the trees and on a broad expanse of frost-encrusted meadow. The setting sun's rays made it shimmer as though a master had prepared thousands of small fires to welcome him. Spurred on, the stag lunged on though deep softer snow towards a nearby hill. Behind him, the pack's sound was accompanied by much heavier footfall. He immediately recognised the sound. The masters were astride their taller, faster and more powerful four-legged beasts.

Some distance ahead, he noticed the familiar sound of rushing water. The feel of dormant grass became replaced by a much smoother slippery sensation of loose pebbles. A distant memory formed inside. Countless seasons ago he was here. With each stride, the thickness of pebbles increased and as it did, a log narrow gap in the snow loomed into view. Without hesitating, he leapt across a narrow but deep tributary.

The stag landed in an unexpectedly heavy patch of clinging mud, causing him to stumble and falter. A great baying cry broke out from close behind, soon drowned out by their masters' even louder calls. Spurred on by their expected triumph, the stag too an enormous breath and lunged onward. Reaching the hill, he gathered his strength for one last tumultuous effort and sprang on to the steep treacherous incline. Though the hillcrest resembles a thin band of fire, it did nothing to stop him, for the leading hounds were vying to be first to savage him.

Upon reaching the plateau, he raced on towards the edge with its sheer drop and without hesitation, vaulted high in to the air.

With a mighty splash, the stag and leading hounds plunged into the desperately cold unseen lake. Around him, whoops of ritual success were replaced by loud forlorn shouts and howls of terror. Now free of any restricting snow, the stag ignored the struggling pining hounds and swam across the river's gentle current to the moonlit shore.

Once more of firm land, he scrambled ashore and shook the excess water from his sodden coat, then turned towards the hill. Silhouetted against the emerging stars were the shouting and gesticulating masters alongside their silent pack.

He studied the group for a moment before giving them a great bellow of defiant triumph.

Then he turned and majestically walked towards his sanctuary within this new land.