King Elk Forest Everybody lies.

The sun had finally breached the horizon and brought light, heat, and comfort to the world again. A faint haze of frost clung to the lower reaches of the forest. Through that, the light took on a moody affectation; as if knowing the night had been quelled yet again, birds began their chirping. It was an idyllic moment of perfect calm and contentedment within the coppice.

From deep within the forest, something else called. The namesake elk lifted its mighty crown and bleat a series of shrill notes. On the second cry it went louder, higher, the sound carrying through the trees — and without being able to stop herself, Bronze lifted her body free of its hiding place beneath some shrubs and cast her own head back, calling out with a canine drone.

She didn't know why she felt so compelled to match the note. Had she been a dog, she would've probably howled to the sound of an ambulance passing on the street, or the siren of a fire engine screeching on by. Her sound was more canine, and candid, and broke the peaceful quiet for a few moments as she howled a clean — but ultimately meaningless — accompaniment to the unseen prey.