It’s lurking in the shadows.  The black night is its cloak, the menacing prowl its weapon.  I can hear it pace, rustling in the bushes as it slogs through the dead leaves.  It’s watching me; I’m easy prey, the lone lost female.  I can feel its stare on the nape of my neck.  It circles me, and waits.  I tighten my grip on the cold metal stock of my 30-06.

I’m being hunted. 

I hunt it right back.  My arms are starting to ache.  I want to put my rifle down.  I don’t dare.  It could be anything out there.  A bear?  A mountain lion?  I’ve never hunted at night before.  I squint my eyes to find my predator in the murky darkness.  Its movements are hard to track, a swish of the trees here, a rattle in the bushes there.  The noises are growing louder, the steps quicker and heavier.

It’s closing in.

The sounds are coming from all around me, the lumbering tread back and forth, back and forth.  My mind conjures an image, a massive hulk of animal flesh, towering above me with jaws open and fangs sharp and pointed.  It’s taunting me now, a deep guttural growl.  Faint pants, low grunts, then the muffled pacing once again.  I wish I could block it out.  I can still hear it, in front of me, behind me.  Closer, closer, the sounds all run together.

It breaks out of the bushes behind me.

I spin around to see it charging me, a shadowy blur.  I can’t tell what it is, it’s moving too fast.  A sharp pain pierces my shoulder as I fall back.  I feel its teeth sink deep into my flesh.  A jumble of thoughts flashes through my head—who will find my half-eaten carcass: a pack of scavengers, a pair of hikers, my frantic boyfriend?

I don’t want to die.  I pull the trigger, two deafening shots.   The beast is repelled backwards, howling a piteous shriek that keens its pain.  Then a thump as it falls to the ground.  My scream is the only sound left, shrill and inhuman.  I stop.

It’s quiet now.

My heart is pounding, my mouth is stale.  I stagger to my feet.  Blood, warm and sticky, runs down my leg.  I feel the wound, searching for the broken tooth I feel embedded within.  My hand grasps something cold instead.  Cold and metallic.  I yank it out.

It’s a knife.

My heart races.  I suck in my breath and stare at the fallen heap before me.  It’s small, a shapeless lump of black slumped across the ground.  I edge in closer, watching for movement.  There is none.  I nudge the carcass with the barrel of my rifle.  As it rolls over I hear myself gasp in horror.  Across the pale white face of the beast, a maniacal smile is stretched in a dreadful rictus.

It’s a man.  I have just killed a man.

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