Trophy Kill

The crisp autumn of Texas had arrived. While the heat still hovered over the ground, the humidity had been blown away by a northern breeze. The sound of cicadas buzzed incessantly in the trees. Actaeon and his buddies set out, their bows in the back of their pick-ups, and the hounds loaded in the kennels. They pulled their trucks into a valley set between the hills in Cat Springs, the hounds baying and barking as the dust settled around them.

The men were all eager to get their deer on this opening day of bow season. “Bubba, let’s set up near the stock tank. The hounds should catch a scent closer to the water,” Actaeon explained. The rest of the guys followed suit, their compound bows hanging by their side. As they traipsed through the dense brush, the dry grass crunching underneath their boots, the stagnant watering hole came into view. Everything was perfect. They were ready for the hunt.

Not far from the hunting party, the goddess Diana was having her own gathering. Unlike the muddy cattle water, a clear spring bubbled up from a stony outcrop. Around its edges was soft grass, the tender blades untouched by the Texas sun. Several large bald cypresses shaded the small spring. Their branches gently waved in the breeze, as if to fan the goddess as she undressed herself to step into the cool water. She had flecks of mud and blood splattered over her arms and face, evidence of the successful hunt she had just finished. Her nymphs, attending to her every need, took her javelin and armor that she held out to them.

“Nephele, take this,” Diana commanded as she held out her sandals and blue cloak. The nymph scampered forward to do her goddess’ bidding.

The goddess of the hunt stepped into the pool. Hyale and Rhanis, two more nymphs in attendance, filled beautiful, large jars with water. The lapis lazuli embedded into the sides of the jars caught the sun’s rays, causing the small grotto to be filled with dancing blue light. They poured the water over their mistress’s pearlesque skin, washing away the grime and grit of the hunt they had just finished. The water trickled down the goddess’s flesh, and the small specks of blood disappeared. The rest of the nymphs in attendance joined her in the spring. They played and splashed each other, unashamed at their own nakedness. Their giggles filled the grove of cypress trees like mama’s chimes on the back porch.

The sun slowly made its journey across the sky. The masculine party, unaware of the beauty that was so close to them, whooped and hollered as the last of them shot his buck, filling the entire party’s quota.

“We’ve never gotten all our deer in one day!” Bubba exclaimed.

“Heaven must be smiling down on us,” Actaeon replied.

“Well, the dogs were a big help. We wouldn’t have found all those deer if they hadn’t had their noses to the ground,” another one of the men in the hunting party pointed out as he readjusted his prey on his shoulders. The rest of the men, with their supplies packed and their meat hoisted, started their long trek back to the vehicles.

Actaeon, one of the first to shoot his deer, had already dressed and packed his deer in the truck that morning. “Y’all go ahead and work your way back to the trucks. I’ll go and collect the dogs.” With that, he turned and headed back into the brush, whistling as he went.

Alone, as the sun set, he continued to look for the dogs. “Raven, Ranger!” the hunter called. But, none of the dogs came. “Gazelle, Spartan, Killer, where are y’all? Did you find those hogs that the corn farmer wanted us to get?” He continued to hike deeper and deeper into the woods, talking as he went--if not for the dogs, but for his own comfort. “You know, if you mess with those pigs, you’re liable to get hurt. Hurricane, Tiger, come here!” he yelled. But not a single dog came.

Finally, with the light beginning to fade, he noticed movement up ahead. Sure it was the dogs, he rushed forward. He continued on, not noticing that his boots no longer crunched on the dry ground but were hushed by the green velvet carpet of lush grass. He was in Diana’s grotto. As he entered, he stared as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen filled his field of vision. There were other beautiful women, but he could not tear his eyes from the goddess. Her beauty was otherworldly.

The nymphs, at the sight of a man in their midst let out a wild scream and attempted to cover their lady. However, Diana was much too tall for them to be any help. As she stood, she turned her back to Actaeon, wishing her arrows were nearby. Her face reddened with embarrassment, glowing as bright as a full Texas harvest moon. With nothing more than her own body to shield herself from his gaze, she caught a handful of water and flung it at the hapless man.

The moment the water touched his cheeks, he was overcome with sudden and unnatural panic. With each trickle of water, the fear of prey in the eyes of its quarry seeped into his skin. The blue water of the spring left shining tracks as it trickled down the hunter’s changing face. The goddess’s eyes pierced his very soul. He backpedaled away from the spring with great agility. As he retreated, he heard the goddess’s cold voice, “Go ahead and brag to your buddies that you have seen the great goddess Diana naked. Brag away if you can! Describe my beauty to them. I dare you!” He had no idea what she even meant. He had not intended to intrude. How had such a wonderful hunt turned so quickly? He ran as fast as he could--faster than he had thought possible.

The sun had set, and he had a difficult time figuring out where he was. Suddenly, the scent of water reached his nostrils. He had a splitting headache. Maybe if he could reach the watering hole he smelled, he could gain his bearings. As he cleared the brush, the stock tank from that morning came into view. He slowed his running and approached the muddy water. When he peered into the muddy hole, the long, slender nose of a white-tailed buck stared back. Where his short, brown hair had been before, long, hard antlers sprouted from the top of his crown.

“Help me!” he tried to scream, but no noise came out of his fur-covered lips. “What ever am I going to do?” he thought--for the goddess had allowed him to keep his mind, even though his body changed. “If I return to the truck, the guys will think I am another trophy to take. If I run back into the woods, I may become food for some other wild animal.” As he continued to ponder his dilemma, movement from within the dark brush caught his eye. A shadow emerged and stood boldly in the moonlight. He stared at it and tried to make sense of it. Another shadow joined the first. Then another. Then another.

Finally, it dawned on him. The hounds had come back to their master. The first one must be Blackfoot. Or Tracker. They were always the first at the scene of the hunt. Following them would be Spartan, Hunter, Winddog and Harpie. The rest would be there soon. Without thinking, he jumped into the air with his strong back legs and took off in the opposite direction. The dogs howled and gave chase immediately. He fled--fled from his own dogs--his faithful companions.

“Stop!” he tried to say as he ran. “It’s me! Please!” His appeals resounded within his own head. On they ran, the barks and bays echoed through the night. They ran over rocks, and through creeks. Up hills and through mesquite bushes--the thorns tearing at his sides.

As he zigged and zagged through the countryside that he knew so well, he felt pressure on his hind leg. Blacklock, the large black mastiff, had him by the hamstring. Beastkiller, the large red coonhound, jumped over his companion to land on Actaeon’s back. The two hounds had slowed him down enough for the rest of the pack to catch up. They surrounded him. There was nowhere to run. Actaeon groaned but no human sound escaped his throat. It was more the death sound of an otherworldly creature; certainly not the sound any buck could make.

The pack settled around him, ripping at the hard muscles and tearing at the soft fur that covered Actaeon. In one desperate attempt to flee, he jumped into the air just to feel the snap of his tendon as another dog grabbed his hock. As he was ripped out of the sky and came crashing to the ground, he felt the dogs disembowel him.

At that moment, so many thoughts ran through his mind. He remembered being up late with his dog Hurricane after he tangled with the wrong pig. The vet said he probably wouldn’t make it through the night. He loved that dog, so he stayed up all night, his hand on the dog’s chest to make sure he was breathing alright. Now, looking over to his right, he saw the beloved dog burying its muzzle into his own warm flesh, its muzzle bathed in his blood. Looking around, the memories kept coming. But they were all a blur. He guessed this is what it meant to have one’s life flash before one’s eyes.

Off in the distance, before Actaeon lost consciousness, he heard shouts. It was the men coming to find him--and the dogs. “Here they are. I’m not sure where Actaeon is. But the dogs are here. They’ve got something!”

“Do you have any leashes or ropes?” Bubba shouted over the roar of the dogs’ excited barks.

“Sure do.” Another hunter produced the ties that would lead the dogs away from their murder.

“I hope Actaeon’s okay. I’m sure he’s going to be sad that he missed this. Oh well. Hopefully he’s back at the truck.” With that, the men gathered the dogs and headed out through the moonlit field.

As Actaeon lay on the blood-soaked ground, the light dimming in his own eyes, he spotted a tall, slender woman standing in one of the bald cypress trees, bathed in moonlight. Her dark hair was gently blown by the breeze that had picked up. Only when the last bit of life left the buck’s body was the goddess finally appeased and her anger diminished.