The sun is slow as it creeps over the horizon. It casts an orange haze over the sky. The shine of the sun reflects off the buck's nose, but is absorbed by his antlers, all 12 points. He's curled up sleeping under a thick bush, trying to be warm and hidden. He was born under this bush, and even though his parents have passed, it still feels like home. His breath is white like smoke due to the freezing temperatures. He decides to get up. He arches his back to stretch as he walks over to the creek for his routine morning drink. The buck feels like something is slightly off. He can’t quite place what it is; maybe it's because the squirrels haven't started making a ruckus in the leaves yet. Or the birds' songs weren’t echoing through the valley this morning. He wasn’t sure. All of a sudden, he hears a twig snap. He pauses, looks up, grunts in alarm, then continues. Once he arrives at the creek, he picks the quietest part of the stream, so he can still listen for any predators. Another snap-like sound, but this time the buck doesn’t think it's a twig. He looks around and doesn’t see anything. He’s nervous now, so he decides to go to the bottom of the hill, where all of the acorns, hickory nuts, and pecans fall. He grazes, taking his time, in no rush to go anywhere except back to his warm leaf bed under the bush. Suddenly, he hears a grunt, just like his own. He looks up and sees the brightest color he's ever seen, orange, floating high up in the tree. He freezes; he's never seen this color before. Then, another noise, only this time, a bang! The deer kicks its two back legs back and bolts as fast as he can. He feels a warm sensation right behind his shoulder, but keeps moving. His vision becomes blurry, but his foot steps feel natural, like he's been this way all his life. His steps start to become shorter and shorter. His breath is no longer visible coming out of his nose. He takes one more step, then collapses right under the bush, at home.