Crisp leaves crunch and shred apart under the boot.

The birds perform a series of tuneful cheeps.

Hundreds of dark pillars tower above, shadowing the blood-soaked trail.

The wounded warrior wanders, seeking emancipation.

I still didn’t know if I was strong enough, 

turning life into death in an instant sounded so crude. 

It sounded barbaric,

but I continued on.

Meticulously searching,

the bright blue of the sky began to transform into a dull gray.

Whether it’s us or the tenacious stag who tires first, 

we knew that our chase was coming to an end.

We were presented with a pool of crimson surrounding our feet,

but there was no prey. 

He got away,

and we trudged back to the car, empty-handed.