The prairie stayed quiet after the wind dropped. Eli had followed the tracks because they looked wrong, too large for a rabbit. The hind feet pressed deeper than they should. He had come out to check the fence line before dark. The grass bent where something had moved through it in a straight line toward the dry wash. He stopped at the edge of the wash. The tracks continued down the slope and stopped where the dirt was soft.
Something had stood there. The prints showed four toes and the drag of something heavier behind them. Eli raised the flashlight. The beam caught movement at the bottom of the wash, a shape set upright in the grass, long ears, the antlers rose higher than the ears, branched and pale under the light. The eyes reflected flat and yellow. Eli did not move. The shape did not run. It turned its head. The antlers swung with it.
One point caught the light and showed dark where the tip had broken. The mouth opened. The sound that came out was not an animal sound. It was his own voice, low and careful, the way he had spoken to himself while he walked the fence. The words were the same. The shape held them a moment longer than he had. He stepped back, the shape stood. The hind legs were longer than a rabbit’s should be. It came up the slope without hurry, the antlers stayed level.
Eli raised the rifle, the safety clicked, the shape stopped twenty feet away, the mouth opened again. This time the sound was shorter, a single word he had not said. His name. The first shot struck the chest. The shape flinched but did not fall. Blood ran down the fur and into the grass. It kept coming. The second shot hit the shoulder. The antlers lowered. Eli turned and ran for the truck. The grass behind him moved.
Something struck his leg above the boot. The pain was sharp and deep. He went down. The antlers were already over him when he rolled. One point caught the fabric of his coat and tore it. The weight pressed him into the dirt. He fired again from the ground. The shot went wide. The shape pulled back. Blood dripped from the antlers onto his face. The mouth opened. His voice came out again, quieter now, it said the same word.
His name. Then it stopped, the shape stayed where it was, breathing hard. Eli crawled backward until his shoulders hit the side of the wash. The antlers rose, the eyes stayed on him. He raised the rifle one more time, the shape stepped forward, the antlers came down, the point found the space between his ribs. He felt it go in. The sound that left him was short. The shape held the weight of him for a moment, then pulled free. Blood followed the antlers when they lifted. The shape turned and moved down the wash. The grass closed behind it. Eli stayed where he was, the voice did not come again. The prairie stayed quiet.
