Moonsong Glacier the sun is not a-bed

He stalked closer, like midnight clouds over moonlight; the deer reflected in forest-green eyes as if they were puddles on still days. 

Low to the ground he crept, silent- still! She was looking around, before lowering her head back down. 

Three.

Two.

One.

And the man put one paw in front of the other. Quicker, heart beginning to race. Closer, more anxious for it- come on, one good - 

jump through the grasses, a blur of reds and oranges. 

A toe on the ground as the deer struggled to keep her head up with a wolf at her neck.