Alan jolted up, and he looked around him, confused. As his senses became alive, he soon realized he was on a plane. On his left was a window he had been lying on before suddenly arising from what felt like years of sleep. To the right, a woman of about 30 years old sat adjacent to him, reading what appeared to be an inflight magazine. She looked at him and smiled.
Was it a dream?
Sweat runs in thick beads down both brows. Vision narrows. He is focused. Quietly now, ever so quietly he gestures for the group to move forward. Arrows are drawn slowly in a concession. The prize is in sight. Ahead of them, a stag stands strong. Ears perked and listening. Rapid breathing. Rigid and knowing. Fight or flight engaged. He is aware of their presence. Rin taking the lead moves nearer for better aim. The stag bolts at the first glimpse of human contact. Adrenaline surging from both man and animal. Arrows whistle in the crisp bite of autumn's grasp in the woods. The stag yelps as an arrow hit his rear flanks. He has slowed but not enough. The urge to survive courses through every nerve in his body. Another arrow blows to his ribs. Heaving breaths of metallic air and it is done. Defeated but still the desire to live so strong. He is surrounded by men. An ancient understanding arrives between man and beast. The stag knows he is the prey. The men know they are the predator. On his last breath, the eyes of man and stag meet. Surreal and almost telepathically communication in a way is made and they know that this is the way.
My dear diary with the pages of long past memories held fast