The Hunter and the Doe
Her story is hidden in every third word.
Our hunter sought deer. He tracked silently while he bounded over brooks, away, into woods, zigzagging amongst trees, through undergrowth, while the doe jumped dense thickets ahead. Forest birds screeched and took flight, evading chance of danger. It was her he tracked. Instinct and guile kept him focussed. Her near silence ahead bewitched him: She seemed so rested as she quietly evaded him. In between moments a cool breeze, hidden, opened a spot. She was watching, unmoving as the arrow left hunter - aimed well, but hitting wood. She waited. He slipped another shaft into his bow. The forest waited, hushed. He sensed depths as eyes of each met. The arrow stayed; woodland breathed again.
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