Blackout

She remembered seeing the deer. It looked up at her while lapping at a river, pelt white as the moon, eyes red as blood. She remembered jumping for it. She remembered the pain that followed, sudden and sharp, the breath knocked out of her, the crack of her back on the rough ground. She remembered looking down and seeing the bolt buried in her chest. She did not remember very much else except that in the morning, she awoke surrounded by the grisly remains of the kids who used to steal pies from her mother's window. Hunters, now—their crossbows just within reach.

Her mouth was slick with their blood.

The Motives of the Wolf