Reunion

The Hunter raised his eyes as his friend jogged up to the fallen doe—a look of glee in his eyes. The Hunter’s eyes were filling with tears: his friend stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the upset in the Hunter’s face.

The Hunter mumbled, “I asked you not to shoot this one. Why did you ignore my request?”

“And what a request, man,” said the Intruder. “We are here for a purpose---this is a sport called ‘hunting,’ have you forgotten that? We shoot to kill these deer for steaks, to mount any trophy heads; we get away from it all, on these trips. We are alone. Out in these woods. Now, what is YOUR PROBLEM with that?” The Intruder was utterly beside himself with the Hunter’s odd behavior.

The Hunter didn’t say anything for a long moment. His slow reply was hesitantly spoken. “This doe has been roaming this area the last two seasons—that I have been aware of.” He stroked her still-warm body with his hand. ‘Odd,’ he though, ‘there is hardly any blood. It must be clotting where the bullet entered.’

“We had a little game going,” the Hunter continued, “it was rather unclear as to whom was the hunted and whom was the pursuing hunter. She was so quick, yet evasive… she’d tease me so—just when I thought I had outsmarted her, she would appear before me; so calm, controlled, coy and mocking. But, I never really wanted to kill her. And I think she somehow knew that.”

“Here, have a beer,” the Intruder soothingly suggested. He had reached into his knapsack, and pulled two relatively cold beers out. “Maybe we out to go prepare something to eat—it’s been a long time since breakfast. It’s probably going to be a long afternoon, judging by the mood you’re in.” His friend quickly downed another beer.

“Yes, let’s go back to camp, we’ll eat, then come back to dress her,” absently remarked the Hunter. His friend frowned. This was not the usual procedure that was followed in trips past.

Still frowning, the Intruder blurted out, “Yes, but what about other animals finding her carcass and…!”

Uncharacteristically the Hunter snapped, “She had no enemies. The other animals will not bother her. LET’S GO ! ! !”

* * * * * * *

/the two walked back to their camp in silence. After several minutes, the friend started chattering about hunting rifles—both men were in the market for new ones sometimes this season. When they reached the crude campsite, still only half-put-together after one night had already passed. The Hunter, without a word, busied himself with heating the homemade stew that he had brought from home. His friend, feeling totally rebuffed, and ignored by the Hunter, quickly down his third beer.

His friend started, “Look, I’m sorry….”.

“Let’s forget it,” the Hunter interrupted. He pushed his plate aside, stood up, grabbed the tarp, and headed in the direction of the shooting, some forty minutes ago.

“I’ll go get her, and drag her back to camp, where we can dress her.” He sharply shot a look at his friend, who was now slowly moving about with deliberate slowness, caused by the rapid succession of the beers that he kept pouring into his system. ‘He’ll probably be in no shape to help with the doe’s field dressing,’ the Hunter thought to himself.

On the way to the site of the fallen doe, he searched for some sort of marker to place where the doe was struck down. So engrossed in his search for the marker, he had unknowingly walked over the spot where the doe had once laid. Quickly realizing his error, he retraced his steps, then stopped—utter puzzlement was on his face.

He glared all around. “Who would have taken the time to drag that heavy animal? Hunters do not steal each other’s catches—“ And that was a rule in these parts. “No blood, no sign of anything being dragged through the tall grass… how in the hell? What happened to her?” the Hunter asked of the blue skies, cold breeze and Nature all around. He thought quickly back over the last thirty minutes: “Well, I HAVE had a beer and a half – maybe they really went to my head. Like HELL!!” he concluded.

Something eerie was going on. Goosebumps chilled him for a few moments.

The Hunter walked over to a tree, with low enough branches; he dropped the tarp and swung himself up into the tree, and quickly climbed about 10-12 feet up. Instead of sitting in the crook of the two branches, he squatted on the broad branch. Skillfully, he balanced himself, rifle within reach, as if he was going to defend himself, or attack someone or something else. He racked his brain, trying to figure out this bizarre turn of events this November afternoon, on an up-until-now uneventful hunting trip.

He quietly said aloud, “Whatever the reason for all of this is—it is beyond my understanding!”

After about thirty minutes had elapsed, the Hunter’s head jerked up. He was sure he had heard the faint snapping of some brush and leaves, as someone or something entered the heavily wooded area. The Hunter peered in the dim light of the woods. About three hundred feet up ahead, he made out a buck, walking in the hunter’s direction. ‘My God, he’s beautiful,” he thought. The massive antlers, the tell, muscular physique, the stately gait of the buck were all unlike anything the Hunter had ever witnessed before on one of his hunting drips. But apparently, the Hunter in the tree wasn’t the only one taken with this buck: the buck’s companion strolled into view. In the meantime, the buck was almost directly under the branch on which the Hunter was perched. The buck looked up at the Hunter and then at him companion, another deer. He then quietly took leave of the entire area. The deer drew closer to the tree. The Hunter drew in a shaky breath. It was HIS DOE.

The doe’s Hunter was patient. Logic basically ruled his thought process, or so he led others to believe. His FEAR of what was transpiring unexplained before him dissipated. The quivering inside of his outwardly macho hunter-self stemmed from another emotion. He waited….tensely, yet trusting he would be enlightened in his ignorance. He squinted down out of the tree—‘if you aren’t who I think you are, there sure is a close resemblance,’ he thought to himself.

They gazed at one another. No, she knew that this hunter would not aim, and the Hunter knew that she would not run from him—not now, and not anymore. And he addressed her, if only in his thoughts.

‘Why have you come back? What is here in the forest that you had to come back to?’ hr silently transmitted to her.

Her incredibly large “doe-eyes” merely looked at him. An expressionless look. She bent down to nibble on some grass. ‘I am here to fulfill my promise to you,’ came an unspoken voice from underneath him.

‘I did not die. I have a very strong will to survive, to live. I dwell in the same place as you: in another time, another existence. You don’t see, do you?’ came the serene explanation.

* * * * * * * * * *

The Hunter shook his head, in disbelief. ‘YES,’ he exclaimed, in the same mental communication as his doe. ‘I am a misfit, a mistake. A bizarre twist of unexplained Fate. I do not enjoy my life as I know life on this earth,’

The Doe disregarded his last statement… or so he thought.

‘You know,’ the Doe went on, ‘that several hours ago was the first time that you ever indicated any of our feelings about me—but you did not say them to me, but to your friend, over my carcass. How perceptive. You understood my game. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?’

She continued, ‘Yes, I know you would rather be in these woods, hunting; it comes naturally to you. You are drawn to these woods, and the deer kingdom. Is that not true? Does that not strike you as strange? You are a longer individual. Life is boring for you. You like games, excitement, hunts, teasing---‘

The wind has grown cooler. The Hunter looked into the distance for any stirring from his friend, the Intruder.

‘No, no,’ she said, ‘for a while longer…stay with me – now. You are not in the world with your friend… you are with me, and me alone. Right now.’ She paused and looked quizzically at the Hunter.

‘Do you believe in me? What I say to you—my prophecies? My observations?’ Mesmerized, the Hunter nodded.

‘Everything you say is true. I do not understand, but I do not fear what is happening.’ She made one last query.

‘Do you believe in your destiny, your purpose—as I believe in you and yours?’

He hesitated. ‘I—do not belie---‘

He heard a snap of brush, and thinking it was his friend, he elevated his gaze. No sign of his friend anywhere. His eyes searched the ground. The doe was gone.

The Hunter sat perched in his tree for another hour. He knew what has taken place in the brief interlude prior to now—was his own reality. And he was quiet…”

As he roused himself from his perplexing daydream, he wondered where his friend had been all of this long interlude. He looked at his watch. Only about forty-five minutes had elapsed!!!! Through sleep-squinted eyes he searched the ground below him.

Remembering his doe’s words, he felt a different consciousness present. The rules and guidelines of his lifelong existence were not a part of the awareness he found permeating his being.

A quiet imagined voice broke into his awareness…and he found he was in the grips of the doe’s communications, once again. He closed his eyes and listened.

‘My Gentle Hunter, I’ve come back to you to help you in your unwilling transition to the world you find so alluring; back from whence you strayed,’ she offered.

The Hunter shook his head. His lips groaned. ‘No, no. I do not know you, who what you are saying to me.’

The Doe tried again. ‘You are sitting there in a warp between two world, a foot in each. You’ve allowed yourself to come this far - in my drawing you to my world. Would not you be thought a crazy lunatic if you even thought of relating this to your Earth World friends?’

The graceful Doe appeared in the opening about thriry feet from the tree in which the Hunter was statuesquely perched.

‘Don’t you remember…three years ago, the late October? A forgotten bear trap caught you in both hind legs in a painful vice grip? Holding you so you could not get away? Tearing your flesh?’

Tears fills the Gentle Hunter’s eyes.

‘Go ahead. Raise up your trouser legs. You will find scars on the front- and backside of each leg,’ she quietly urged.

In an absent-minded trance, he hiked up a pant-leg, and saw white scars at regular intervals at the base of his bulging calf muscle. As he bard the other leg for inspection, the Doe cautiously stood under the branch on which the Hunter sat.

An odd feeling crept into the groin of the Hunter. Man and animal were about ten feet apart—and he wanted an intimacy with this beauty that was forbidden by the laws of his world.

“NO!!!!” The terror screamed out from the Hunter’s soul.

He took aim with his rifle and fired expertly into the breast of the animal.

Her eyes met his before they closed for the last time.

* * * * * * * * *

The Hunter huffed and puffed as he dragged the slain doe on the worn tarp to the campsite. It was early evening, and dusk was rapidly turning into inky blackness. His friend was rousing himself from an intoxicated sleep.

“Where the hell have you been?” he good-naturedly yelled to the Hunter.

“Well, I tried scouting the woods before I brought back your kill. Guess I fell asleep in the tree. Well, here she is.” The Hunter spoke without any emotion. The Intruder shook his head.

“We can’t dress her in the dark. Here,” he motioned, “we’ll tie another tarp over her. She’ll wait until morning. Come…have some campfire stew.” The Intruder was rather sensitive in his manner as he addressed his friend.

The Hunter bowed his head and silently prayed as he never had before. The doe was still warm, of course, since she was alive only an hour earlier. She would cool and stiffen by morning. There would be no questions from his friend about this detail in the light of the morning, and the forgotten effects of the beer. There would be no questions at all.

The two friends lounged lazily around the fire until about 9:00 that evening; both partaking of the never-ending supply of beer that the friend had brought.

“Man, I’m going to turn in. You coming?” the Hunter’s friend spoke as he unsteadily rose to his feet.

“Naw. I’ll watch the fire go out,” the Hunter refused, wondering why he was not getting drowsy, as well.

* * * * * * * *

The embers were about out. The Hunter groggily turned his head as he heard a snap of undergrowth some feet away from the nearest thickening of the woods. He rolled over and reached for his rifle that he always kept propped nearby. Even though he moved ever so slowly, some dried pine needles under his weight made a sound that abruptly halted the even, steady crunches of footsteps several hundred feet away.

There as a long, tense silence. The steps from the woods began again, but the Hunter became aware of another sound. Something was being dragged along the ground – something somewhat lightweight that was catching on the brush growing close to the ground. He was awake and alert. He cocked his head and heard his friend’s somewhat loud, yet muffled snoring from the tent about seventy feet away. The light of the campfire’s embers was very dim—yet it was reflected in the eyes of an animal somewhere in the darkness. From his knapsack he fumbled for a flashlight, knowing the bright beam of light would very well stun whatever was stalking his campsite…or the Hunter, himself.

He grabbed the handle of the flashlight, yanked it free from the canvas bag, and simultaneously flicked on the light. Standing tell and graceful was the doe. Without a start, his eyes slowly moved to her hind quarters. A rope encircled her flank, and he recognized it as the rope that he had tied her up in the tarp a few hours earlier. And sure enough—the doe was dragging the tarp behind her.

He briefly considered blowing his own brains out with his rifle, though it would be rather difficult. He almost smiled at that thought. But—his blood began to pulsate in his body. With anticipation. Of the unknown that he was about to experience. The reality of the hunting trip and his friend once again melted away—at the moment the world held just himself, and the campfire’s embers glowing in the eyes of his doe. Her gentle voice probed his consciousness with her unspoken words.

‘Why do you run from me? I speak the truth…you know that. You’ve been chasing me for three hunting seasons,’ she remarked. ‘You always wanted a taste of the hunters’ world. You couldn’t be happy in your world…our world.’ Silence. She continued.

‘In death, you chose to awaken in the another world—a world of men and rifles and wars. Yes, you are yearning for something.’ The doe pawed the ground with her front right hoof. And waited.

The Gentle Hunter slowly rose to his feet. His head was beginning to ache, terribly. They looked at one another. Neither blinked. And waited.

Your faith in me is strong…stronger than your doubt in your own sanity,’ she pointed out. ‘You believe in the freedom and simplicity of my world. It’s we dumber creatures who are more accepting of God and of all things. Of the order of His universe. No judicial systems, no massacres, no drugs, no nuclear war. Just God’s Law.’

The Hunter questioned himself….and her, ‘What is the meaning of this?’

She replied, ‘You are struggling within yourself about your purpose in life. Your faith in me is a start, but not all of the answer to your question. That faith is leading you back to faith in God. He is just using me to bring you back to where you need to be. You have made a mistake in the life your chose this time; that’s all.’

The Hunter was now standing in front of the Gentle Doe. His arms circled her neck. Once again, he could feel her warmth…her smooth, yet coarse hide. Her rapid heartbeat.

He buried his face in her neck. He mumbled.

‘What do I do? Who am I? How do I get back to you? What is the journey back going to do to me as I am now? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?’ he conveyed to her. His passion for his lady was mounting, and his headache was splitting his head above both ears. He slowly released his hold on her neck, and deliberately ran both hands down her back to her flank. The doe stood very still. The Hunter’s heart stood still, then pounded to match the pounding in his groin and in his eyes. He eased himself around until he was facing her flank. The Doe looked back over her left shoulder at him. She caught his eyes as he was rubbing his throbbing head. Between his fingers above both ears, she noted two growing protuberances. And smiled. And they were becoming well-formed antlers.

The Hunter knew there was no returning. His fingers could no longer feel the growing antlers. Both hands were becoming heavier, his fingers joining together and becoming only two per limb….as they elongated. Simultaneously, he kicked up the tarp to cover himself and his statuesque bride – as he unabashedly grasped her belly, and lay across her back. With one gentle thrust, he entered her world and left his own… with an ecstasy he had never known in either.

* * * * * * * *

The hung-over Intruder stirred in his sleep. The liquor had worn off. It was morning—brisk, clear and bright – and irritating him as he searched for aspirin in his knapsack.

He focused on his friend’s sleeping bag. It was rolled out flat, and still zipped closed, as if he hadn’t slept in it. He stumbled outside the tent to the cold campfire. No Hunter. He sharply looked by the pick-up truck. No tarp. No doe.

“Damn you, Hunter! You stole my game!” he shouted, anger distorting his face, and flared his nostrils. A slight commotion in the woods briefly distracted him. Without grabbing the Hunter’s rifle, he entered the dimness of the thicket. There before him was a young doe with a tarp tied to her hind quarters and a buck pressing close to her, nuzzling her neck.

In his angry movements, the Intruder caught the attention of the two animals, who sized him up, but did not run. He backed away—uncertain and trembling. In a few seconds, he had retrieved his rifle, and headed back into the woods.

But, of course, the deer were both gone. The man now ran to the spot where they had both stood, moments earlier. A strap from the tarp was half-buried under the pine needles on the forest floor. Something shiny caught his eyes. He bent to retrieve the metal object. It was a key ring with the picture of a stately buck on the tag. The ring held the keys to the pick-up truck. They were his friend’s keys! A sudden stirring in the brush took his attention off the object in his hand.

He sharply looked up and squinted into the dimness. In the distance, he saw the buck yanking with all his might to free himself from a bush with which he had become ensnared. In a flash, the Intruder raised his rifle and fired. But in the split second before, the buck had freed himself, and taken off in a run as the man took careful aim.

The angered man took a few strides to the bush, and bent over to examine the torn swatch of red and black. It was a piece of his friend’s hunting jacket. With evil in his voice, the Intruder snarled into the darkness of the thicket,

“I will hunt to have you again. Both of you….!?”

All that could be heard was the sound of eight hooves as they raced off towards their friends, the other wildlife residing in that woods. And for the very first time, the Intruder had grave misgivings about the disappearance of his friend.

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