Fawn

I hear it before I see anything. Something's wrong.

I stop mid-step, snow crunching beneath my boots. My breath clouds in front of me, and for a moment the frozen forest is silent. Then I hear it again. A whine, almost human.

I follow it through the pine, rifle already in my hands though I don't remember reaching for it. The trees thin out ahead. Blood on snow catches my eye first. Too much blood. Then I see it.

A deer, young, lying at the base of a tree. Still alive. Its sides heaving with each breath, steam rising from its nostrils. But it's the wounds that stop me cold.

Something cold settles in my stomach.

I crouch down, keeping my distance. The injuries are too deliberate. Too patterned. Cuts along the flank, shallow but precise. Like someone took their time. The deer's eyes roll toward me, wide and terrified.

No animal did this.

I should put it down. End its suffering. But something makes me hesitate. These wounds. I've seen enough during the frost to know what desperation looks like, what hunger makes people do. This isn't that.

The deer tries to stand. Fails. Falls back with another of those horrible sounds.

I make a decision.

Getting the deer onto the sled is grim work. It's too weak to fight much, but every movement sends fresh blood onto the snow. I work fast, securing it as gently as I can. The whole time I'm scanning the trees, looking for whoever did this.

Wind and snow. Silence.

I start hauling the sled back toward the cabin, my thoughts churning.

-"Zoe needs to see this. She'll know what it is. She'll know if I'm just seeing things."-

The journey back feels longer than usual. Every crack of a branch, every shadow between the trees, makes my grip tighten on the rifle strap. The deer whines occasionally, and each time I wince.

The deer's breathing is getting shallow. Not much further.

When the cabin finally comes into view through the trees, relief hits me like a physical thing. I drag the sled up to the entrance and yell.

"Zoe! Need you out here!"

The door opens a moment later. She's in her jumper and trousers, no jacket, and she takes one look at the sled before her expression shifts. Professional, focused. She grabs her coat from inside and is down beside the deer in seconds.

"What happened?" Her hands are already moving over the animal, checking vitals, examining wounds.

"Found it like this. Still alive but..." I trail off, watching her work.

She's silent for a long moment, fingers tracing the cuts along the deer's flank. Her brow furrows.

"These aren't from a predator." Her voice is flat. "Cuts are too even. Too deliberate. Someone used a blade."

I knew I wasn't imagining it.

"Can you help it?" I hear the hope in my own voice, stupid as it is.

Zoe sits back on her heels, shaking her head. "Too much damage. Internal bleeding, probably. Even if I could..." She looks up at me. "Best thing is to end it. Quickly."

I nod, pulling my knife from my left hip. "Aye."

She steps back, giving me room.

It's quick. Clean. I've done this enough times with injured game. Find the spot, one motion, it's over. The deer goes still.

I wipe the blade on the snow and sheath it. The killing doesn't bother me. It's those cuts that won't leave my head. The pattern. Someone took their time with this.

Zoe's quiet beside me, staring at the deer.

"Come on. We'll deal with it inside."

But neither of us moves yet. We both know what this means. Someone's out here. Someone who does things like this.

"If there's people out there doing this..." Zoe's voice is careful. "We should be careful. Keep an eye out."

"Yeah." My voice sounds distant. "Yeah, we will."

We haul the deer inside together. The whole time, I can't stop thinking about those cuts. Whoever did this might still be out there.

That night I lay awake listening to the wind, thinking about the cuts on that deer. Thinking about who might have made them.