THE HUNTED. minimal write. RIGINAL.
The Old Elk stood irresolute, its battle-scarred flanks quivered with bleary-eyed resignation. Displaying scant fear it lifted its cumbersome head-ill supported by its sagging body. Gazed at the forest. Sighed. Stared blankly, unflinchingly, at his tormentor.
He took aim, squeezed of a series of rapid shots. Grinned. Too easy. This was America. The weary animal posed again, waiting for the inevitable. Nudged the 'hunter's' pocket with a purposeful antler for the reward. Stupid human. The hunter rubbed his adopted pet's flank, the whispered apology. He rubbed a caring hand across the long forgotten furrow burn from a long forgotten inept hunter. Stupid humans.