Keeping low, I tucked my arms in as I prepared my arrow. Slowly shuffling my feet against the wet moss, my target became clearer. Taking a step too far, the branch creaked beneath my feet. My target lifted its head, its guard now on a higher edge, now detecting a disturbance in its habitat. I froze in place and muttered a swear beneath my breath. My muscles were building lactic acid by the second as I was forced to remain still. My target couldn’t have started grazing soon enough.
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