A Loosing Battle -prologue-

Over The River

-PART I-

Prologue.
The sky was a clouded grey, the typical weather condition of Stockholm in the fall and on the rise of winter. The dark forest stood still, not daring to make a noise. Cold and quiet as death; the bare, gnarled trees remained untouched by life. The branches were stretched out into the cold chills of morning air. There is a stir at the foot of it, in the mulberry bush sitting idly beside it. The gentle padding of movement upon the ground splinters the silence of the forest. A small cloud of breath pierces the morning air in a mix of curiosity and anxiety. Horns held high, mimicking that of the tree branches, a lone buck enters the forest scene. He steps meekly about the frosted forest floor, with caution in every movement.  Craning his head towards the cold ground, he begins sniffing and sampling what little vegetation there was left that had weathered the drops of temperature.
He suddenly straightens at the sound of possible danger.  Standing frozen like the austere tree, he strains his ears to the direction of the sound. Looking on in earnest, hoping it was a fellow creature occupying the forest. Never stopping to blink once, he holds his steady gaze. His ears twitching hither and thither, carefully scanning the possible root to the sound. His breathing returns to a normal pattern, as indicated by the cloud of once-frantic breath. He hears nothing's melody. Dismissing the false alarm, he warily returns to grazing.

       A gun shot.

       Hit square in the shoulder, he pushes through the pain and flees. Building speed as he goes, dodging through the brush and over decaying logs. All the while he is running with a lead bullet stuck deep within the meat of his shoulder. In his attempt to get away, he is caught  in a low branch; the sound of antlers rattling into and through frozen branches giving him away and causing more noise than necessary.  Scared out of his mind, he thrashes to free himself.  
Another shot sounds, this time narrowly missing his throat. He finally breaks away from the damnable branch with a final attempt to break the gnarled wood.  With success on his side he bolts past the threatening tree, towards the thicket. Faster and faster still, he leaps over a golden knoll to safety; flanks curved under his torso, leaning into the movement.

       Another gun shot.