Flash Fiction: The Hunted

The doe was made of silver. Her fawn, gold.

But as the hunter leveled a shaking rifle at his impending fortune, it stepped before him.

The Iron Stag.

It snorted, invincible to bullets: A charging god at a mortal man, antlers like steel spearheads.

Death.

 

 

Copyright © 2019 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

Discover more of my Aethereal Musings.

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