'The Hunted'
By christy
This morning a doe grazedwith her fawnby the roadside.Her wide, dark eyesbarely lifted as mycar sped round the curve.Fear did not ripplethe lean muscles of her form.No, she seemed almost comfortablefeasting with her babyon the crisp morning grass.'Run', I say.'Run as fast as you can.'Soon the freeze will comewith the hunter on its back,but she just stood statuesquelyas if she were alreadyleaving the taxidermist. Written November 30th, 2001 © on Nov 30 2001 07:33 AM PST 0 • 10
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"This morning a doe grazedwith her fawnby the roadside.Her wide, dark eyesbarely lifted as mycar sped round the curve.Fear did not ripplethe lean muscles of her form.No, she seemed almost comfortablefeasting with her babyon the crisp morning grass.'Run', I say.'Run as fast as you can.'Soon the freeze will comewith the hunter on its back,but she just stood statuesquelyas if she were alreadyleaving the taxidermist...."