“Bren, you're gonna marry Canda Shilling, or Deanda Bargery, and have a family, and a good happy life!” There was more than a li le envy in March’s voice. “It’s going to be a lot of boring days and nights without my friends
and family for me, no ma er where I decide to go. It won’t be all fun and exci ng like you think.”
“But what if I went with you?” Brendly lit up at the thought, as if he would really run off in the night and leave his structured world behind. “You’d have a friend with you, and we could make our fortunes together.”
“Your ma would hunt us both down, and then strap you all the way home. I can’t let you come with me!” March laughed.
Bren laughed too, and a er a long awkward silence said, “I’m sure gonna miss you.”
“I’m not gone yet, Bren. Let’s get some sleep so we can get up to that bigger pool before daybreak.”
2
When the sun broke the horizon, they had a perfect view of the tracks by the pool. Each of the boys was at one end of a thick heavy shrub that hid them well from whatever might come to drink the cool crisp water. Yet, they weren’t so far apart that they couldn’t communicate silently with the hunter’s hand signals that their fathers had taught them. The air was cold and charged with an cipa on. Birds were just star ng to chirp their good mornings to the world. The forest was coming to life, bringing with it the promise and blood ngling excitement of the hunt.
Brendly, si ng there alert with an arrow ready to loose, had forgoten his sadness for the moment.
March was feeling alive inside. He was anxious to see what would show up to drink on this most perfect of mornings.
The moment was broken by the distant, yet clear, sound of dried wood cracking. The boys looked at each other excitedly. Whatever it was, it was moving noisily toward them. Both of them began to scan the tree line across the pool for any sign of movement. Ins nc vely each raised his bow toward the area of the noise.
Bren was trying not to breathe too loudly. It was always a chore for him to keep calm and contain himself when this moment came on a hunt.
March just wished his nose would stop itching. It seemed to him that every me he was in a posi on that he couldn’t scratch his face, it began to itch.
As the sound of the approaching animal grew closer, the discomfort got so bad that he decided that Bren could have this one and he silently relaxed his draw so that he could scratch his face.
“Whew!” Bren exhaled rather loudly. March turned and looked at him with alarm. Bren glanced toward him, and whispered, “It was only a wild sow --
or a li le-- uh.”
His words abruptly stopped as a new sound carried toward them. It was a snort, a loud one. It was accompanied by the sound of ra ling branches.
Bren instantly went back into firing posi on; alert, prone and ready. March gave his nose a last second scratch as he re-aimed his arrow. The so sound of Bren’s excited breathing was the last sound he heard before he tuned the world out so that he could focus on the tree line.
First it was a small doe, a yearling, March thought. Two fawns and another larger doe appeared. With nervous dar ng eyes, the biggest of the four deer lowered its head and began to drink. Slowly the others followed suit.
March was thrilled. He hoped that Bren would be pa ent. A buck was sure to present itself eventually.
Bren almost loosed his arrow on the larger doe, but at the last second thought be er of it. He wanted a buck to show off to his dad. His restraint however was mostly due to the two awkward moving young fawns frolicking near their mother.
Suddenly, all four of the deer rose from the pool and froze in alarm. In a flash of movement, a big cracking sound erupted from behind them. They were off in a series of leaping bounds that carried them instantly out of sight and back into the forest.
Here he comes, March thought. He expected a wide heavy rack of antlers to emerge from the trees, announcing the leader of the herd. Instead, the creature that showed itself nearly stopped his heart.
As silently as he could, Brendly took in a deep breath as the magnificent beast stepped out of the tree line. Cau ously, it moved into the clearing and looked around.
It was a white stag, majes c and awe inspiring. Its antlers were long, and only slightly curvy. They twisted and forked only thrice, and in perfect symmetry. The stag’s chest was thrust forward showing its dominance of the forest, and its short white fur was clean and glossy, like frozen snow. It stru ed toward the pool with kingly grace. Its large black eyes didn’t dart around as the does had. These eyes were full of confidence. There was only the hint of the creature’s natural cau on showing in them.
Throughout this forest of paupers and peasants, this creature was royalty.
As far as non predatory animals went, this was the undisputed king of the forest.
March dropped his aim slowly. He wanted to look and see if Brendly was about to take the shot, but he was afraid to take his eyes off the rare beast
that stood before him. Thousands of camp fire stories ran through his head, all of them about this legendary creature. He was taken by its beauty, and suddenly he didn’t want Bren to take its life. This was the moment in me that he wanted to remember when he thought about his home and his friend. No ma er how far away he traveled, or what his situa on might be, he wanted to be able to close his eyes and know in his heart that this creature s ll roamed the valley around Prominence. He would live his life knowing that he and Bren had been graced by its presence.
Brendly’s heart was trying to pound out of his rib cage. Ins nc vely he began to calm himself enough to steady his aim. What a recep on they’d have if they returned to Prominence with such a kill. His father would beam when he told folks of his son’s bounty. All the other hunters would envy him and March forever.
Brendly took his me and lined up the shot perfectly. He wanted to hit the stag’s heart. He carefully checked the range to determine the slight arch he had to consider to place the arrow where he wanted it to go. It wouldn’t do to let this creature suffer. He finally got the white furred buck sighted.
He knew his shot would swi ly end its life. With a sigh of resigna on, he let out his breath and made to let his sha fly.
Suddenly, March jumped from the bushes, waving his arms like a mad man.
“Run away!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.
Brendly’s arrow went astray, flying well over the stag and disappearing into the forest. The stag raised its head from the pool and snorted its disapproval over the interrup on. Proudly, the magnificent animal strode out of the clearing, disappearing as if the two boys were of no concern.
“Don’t stop running!” March yelled. “Don’t ever stop.”
“Why March?” Brendly asked. He wasn’t angry, but he was far from pleased. He had his shot lined up perfectly. He could already see the look of pride in his father’s eyes at the sight of such a kill. He could even feel the congratulatory pats on his back from the other hunters. Then March had jumped out and ruined his moment. He looked at his friend with a ques oning glare.
“Promise me Bren,” March started with a look of wild ela on. “Promise me that you’ll never kill that stag! I don’t care if you see him a thousand mes a er I leave.” March waved his arm around stupidly causing Bren to laugh and lighten his mood. “You can’t ever kill such a majes c and beau ful animal!”
“You’re as crazy as a bald-eyed giboon,” Brendly said as the tension fell completely away from him. “I had him, you know!”
“Yes, I know. That’s why I scared him away.” March’s smile was wide and infec ous as he walked over pu ng his arm around his friend’s shoulder.
