General

When the last sunrays of the day kiss the heathland, when the greens and purples melt into grey under the moonlight, that's when the warren empties and the rabbits are out to forage and play. They move slowly, lolloping in their ungainly way, grazing as they go. At the slightest noise they're up on their hind legs, black eyes staring in more directions than we predator animals can. Sometimes I watch them for a while, just because I need to eat, it doesn't mean I don't appreciate nature. Then I take aim, one bullet, one fat rabbit for stew, job done. They scatter after that and I don't have the patience to stick around for more. Si keeps telling me to set traps instead, but I like my stake-out ritual, and to be honest, knots have never been my thing.

General

Each step leaves a fresh, crisp footprint in the snow. It is as if I'm the only soul to have ever walked here, yet the tracks of a stray deer prove otherwise. I find her grazing on a small patch of grass that wasn't covered in the white powdered snow. I stare. It's been years since I last saw anything as green, or as graceful as she is. I watch, my breaths silent. After a while I take hold of my bow, snatch an arrow... aim... shoot.

By Trenton Anderson, July 2, 2017.