Sinte Sapela Win

NOTE: This story includes sexual violence, as well as gore and other physical violence.

It was the biggest doe he'd ever seen. The body was thick and stocky, full of muscle, fat, blood, tendons. She stood in the clearing staring at the misty world around her, watching. Waiting. The Hunter watched her back, counted the breaths that streamed out of her nose in a long, silky river of fog. His finger stayed on the trigger even though he was taught never to do that. "Only put your finger there when you're ready." Grandpa Max had said it so many times The Hunter could say it in his head in the exact toning drawl Grandpa Max spoke in. He never listened, though. The first time he'd gone out alone at seventeen, The Hunter had spent the entire day with his finger sitting on the trigger, itching to pull it.

Today was no different. Looking at this fat doe, with her wondrous curves and the lusciousness her body offered him, The Hunter's mind was running rampant with all the ways he could skin her, gut her, mount her head so her soft eyes could watch him over his fireplace as he enjoyed his quiet nights. He never contemplated what his kills would taste like, how long their meat would last him. He never thought about making a rug or moccasins or anything useful out of their hide. He only ever focused on what the kill would feel like. This doe brought something new out in him. Watching her through the peep sight, he thought about eating her, tasting her blood. Feeling her sinewy muscle in his teeth. The focus that took over him was blood-thirsty - crazed. It was early morning and his mouth tasted like morning breath and black coffee. The seeping of iron crept into his teeth, then under his tongue, finally resting delicately, teasingly on his taste buds. The animalistic craze that began to creep into his psyche was overwhelming. He wanted to elongate this hunt. He wanted to drag this thing out as long as possible

The Doe twitched. Her forelegs threatening to move without actually following through. She wanted to dodge right, The Hunter knew it. He could see the flight in her eyes, the rapid movement as she stared at the birch to her right. Turning his body alongside her, The Hunter angled himself to shoot.

But then she turned. Disappearing into the foggy woods, the doe sauntered away from him.

The Hunter aimed, hit the trigger, and missed.

The Doe didn't even turn around. Continuing into the forest, The Doe's voice sounded loudly in The Hunter's head. "Come here." Her voice was raspy, low. There was a seductive aspect to it as it called him deeper and deeper into the forest. An animal had never called to him like that. He'd been out here plenty of times, had killed more animals than he could remember, and none of them had called to him like this plump deer. Grandpa Max had always told The Hunter that if an animal called to him go in the other direction. "It's like a damn mermaid. They're just calling you to death, boy."

But The Hunter had never encountered a mermaid. He didn't see the issue with listening to The Doe, just like he didn't see an issue with listening to a mermaid. If she's beautiful and wants you, why not take the chance?

Rising from his low position on the ground, The Hunter gathered his gun, his blanket, his mind. There was a brief moment of worry that crossed his mind, something that told him maybe he should listen to the wisened words of his long dead grandpa, but then there was the voice again.

"Come here."

The Hunter knew better than to keep such a beautiful girl waiting. Shouldering his rifle, he started toward the forest.

He walked into the trees, brushing away the twigs and leaves and spider webs, all collecting dew on their veiny bodies. The call of The Doe was stronger, more aggressive. She wanted him almost as bad as he wanted her, that was clear. The desperation in her smoky voice was yearning for him, his touch. "I need you. Where are you? Are you close?" No one had ever spoken to him so clearly sensually. The Doe wasn't speaking to him like his usual Friday night barflies. She was mature, ready. She knew what she needed, and knew how to get it.

Moving through the trees with a desperate gait, The Hunter frenzied through the woods closer to his infatuation. He slashed through leaves and tree rot and mist, pushing it all aside so he could just get a look at her, a smell of her. Anything to relieve himself of this hell of not knowing where she was. 

Turn back. Grandpa Max said to him.

Come here. The Doe called. 

And only one was still alive, so there was truly only one he could listen to. 

There she was in the clearing. Lively, chubby, beautiful. She was the prize he never knew he needed. He was aching as he took her in, examined where the right shot would land. Nestled right between her front arm and her belly. Staring at it with his naked eye, he imagined the crosshair of the scope sighting in on that piece of tender flesh, arrowing in on where he would inject her with her death. The Hunter contemplated laying in the dewy grass, his gun propped on the bags he’d brought it to rest on, but decided he wanted to take her standing up. Lifting his rifle to his shoulder slowly, he brought the scope to his eye. The shake of his tingling body screwed his sight more than he had anticipated it to, but he thought he could still nail her right where he wanted to. Exhaling deeply, feeling the hot fog of his breath explode in a steady stream and ricocheting off his hands right back at his face, The Hunter felt discomfort for the first time since he’d spotted her. Grandpa Max had gone quiet in his head for once, but the silence made him leerier than he’d ever felt. He searched for his grandfather’s voice anywhere in his head, any sign of what to do, but all he heard was breathing. His own wouldn’t have made him nervous, but this breathing was unnatural to the setting, ragged. There was a dragging vowel sound that rang off trees. A light, elated uh, uh that made him hard. Though The Hunter didn’t think much of the Friday night barflies, the thought of their revolving thin bodies, reeking of smokes and sweat came to his mind. Staring at The Doe in his sights he was reminded of them. The moaning wail came louder in his head, as if her mouth was mere inches from his ear as he directly caused the sounds erupting from her. Bringing his rifle down, The Hunter swiped a hand over the top of his head and eyes, wishing away whatever possession was making him hear such absurd things. 

The Doe headed away from him further into the woods. Her hooves drug slowly through the dewy grass, leaving two parallel lines leading away from him. 

“Son of a bitch.” Watching her walk away, The Hunter found himself fighting a triggering fear that maybe she was taunting him. Every time he got close to the perfect shot she moved, ambled away slow enough to irritate, quick enough to lure him in. Tramping through the woods behind her, The Hunter flicked his head side to side, up and down, trying to find his prize. Earlier when she’d disappeared into the fog she’d been easy to find. She’d been stupid and lazy, stopping in the clearing as if nothing could ever want to hurt her. Now though she took some diligence in where she went. He didn’t want to outright say she was hiding, but it seemed likely to The Hunter that she was, indeed, aware that someone might see her - need her, do away with her, and took some precautions to ensure that didn’t happen. 

The fog thickened along with the trees. There was no clear path for her to go, nowhere for him to safely follow without becoming trapped in a grouping of pines and spruces. He followed the path he believed she’d taken for as long as possible, but was forced to stop when he realized he wasn’t alone. 

The woman was beautiful in her red and black flannel, long hair down and coasting her mid back. She wore bell bottom jeans that hugged her curvy body, and a hat pulled low on her head, skimming her eyebrows that were dark and harsh over her red nose and eerie eyes. She was the kind of beautiful that he never would’ve attracted in the daytime, but out here as the only man and woman in civilization - The Hunter thought he had a pretty good shot. He didn’t feel gross as he moved from one persona to the next. Shedding the hyperfocused hunter that he’d been since he’d seen the deer, he became the casual flirt. The one that said things that idiots misconstrued as being mean. Girls that didn’t have a sense of humor were free to walk away, but beauties like this one never did. 

“Hi.” She spoke before he had. This was going to be easier than he thought. 

“Hi, You lost out here?” Judging by her outfit he doubted she was lost. Her flannel was thick, her jeans were real, none of this cheap fake denim he took off the barflies. She had a bag draped over her waist, deer leather with pretty, decorated tassels. Looking around her, he didn’t see a rifle or any other weapon near her. Lost, no - but unnarmed. Rookie mistake. 

“No, I’m not, but I do need a little help.” A flicker of excitement burned bright in The Hunter’s chest. He loved helping. He loved showing how smart he was, how strong. She didn’t even wait for a response, just started walking away like the damn doe he’d been chasing. 

“Wait up.” He called to her, hurrying deeper into the trees toward her. 

The heavy fog that had settled through the woods was weighing on The Hunter’s chest. Breathing quick, he struggled to fill his lungs as he thrashed through branches hot on the woman’s tail. An aching started in his lungs - deep and throbbing as it took root in his torso. “Wai-” He tried calling the woman to wait once more, but couldn’t force the words out of his mouth. The pain that had started centrally was suddenly taking over his entire body. His mouth was watering miserably as his teeth clanged against one another inside. His throat was desperately swallowing the abundance of saliva that was threatening to choke him. Making its way to his stomach, a vicious burning sensation settled in the lowest piece of his abdomen, creeping its way down towards his legs. His hip joints were so sore and creaky, inhibiting his movements beyond standing absolutely still. When the fire crept to his knees, he was forced to the forest floor. Kneeling in the pine needles, The Hunter took stock of his body. Everything hurt, but everything was there. His hands were his, as was his face. He could feel his breath rising his chest up and down - up and down, as rhythmically as it was supposed to. His legs ached, but they were still attached as they held him in his kneeled position. He was here as one piece, but more than anything he was confused. 

“Still haven’t put it together, have you?” Her voice was just north of his head, hanging above like a Godly figure. Looking up from the ground, The Hunter took in the face of the girl he’d followed into the woods. She had a long nose that dripped down softly into a plump mouth. Her chin came to a sharp point from her full face ending in a set of sharp cheekbones. The Hunter stalled before taking in her eyes. He hadn’t known who he was facing, but as he took the features in, he was suddenly putting together a puzzle he’d vowed to never solve. He didn’t have to look at her black eyes, hooded by her pale, rosy skin to know murder was shining bright in them. 

But he did look at them, and what he found there was what he had expected. 

She didn’t hold a gun to him. Didn’t hold a knife, and didn’t have a bow drawn. All she had was hooves. 

The Hunter almost wasn’t confused. He should’ve known The Doe was too good to be true - a small part of him had almost expected this. Taking her in from hooves to hair, The Hunter sighed. “I put it together.”

A sharp laugh sounded from her mouth, cutting through the cold air in a bitter stream of mist. “Explain it then.”

Shaking his head, The Hunter refused. “No.” 

Trying to rise from his kneeling position, The Hunter cried out and was forced back onto his knees. He wasn’t sure how she was controlling him, just knew that she was. “Say it now.” Shaking his head once more, he was surprised to find The Doe charging him. She became the woman once more when their faces were a mere inch away from one another. “You said you didn’t get the shot when I was standing there tempting you?” She pretended to think on it, resting a long, slender finger on her chin. “Is it that, or is it that you don’t want to admit you had sex with me and dumped my body? You can’t stomach that you strangled me and stabbed me, and had sex with me while I fought for air? You don’t like that about yourself?” Stepping closer, finger leaving her chin, she touched the tip of his nose lightly. “You didn’t think I’d be reincarnated into Deer Woman and you’d have to see me again, is that it? You thought I’d be a good Indian and just stay put after you hid me under the leaves over there and prayed for an animal to eat me?”

The Hunter flinched. He wasn’t sure if he should answer or not. The pain in his hip joints had abated slightly as his warm urine ran down into his groin, warming the soreness to a manageable amount. 

“Now you kneel at my feet and piss yourself and try not to think about what you did to me.”

Tears slipped down his face. He didn’t want to tell the woman before him that he wasn’t afraid, but sitting here knowing his death was imminent made the fear slip away. There was no comfort in knowing he was at the end, but there was a wish. 

“Just make it quick.” 

“Not a fucking chance.”