The sun rises as the two, man and boy hike the steep hillside, each step forward leaving behind an impression in the morning dew.
They walk side by side, but apart.
The man's footfall is soft but his stride long and the boy, barely reaching to his father's chest, breaks into an occasional trot to keep up.
There is a bite in the air and a peaceful solitude unbroken by any verbal exchange between the two. They are all but strangers to one other, Jim’s profession necessitating frequent absences from the family home. Their uneasy alliance is one recently forged from necessity following the untimely death of a beloved wife and mother, the glue preventing the family of three from falling asunder.
Ben is his mother's son, a gentle, tender-hearted child who blames his father for her death. What good his father's army years, his guns, his stripes, and medals, when he failed to save her from a heart attack though he was at hand to witness it?
Jim sees his son anchorless and adrift. Desperate to connect with him, he reaches out in the only way he knows how with a demonstration of his strength and capability. A hunting weekend in the mountains is an opportunity to prove himself a safe pair of hands, a parent the boy can rely upon.
Arriving at their predetermined post downwind of the creek bottom, they clear the leaves beneath mossy logs and settle into their vantage point. There they sit, each lost in the contemplation of his sorrow lulled by the faint fluttering of the breeze.
Ben's eyes close. He is back in the garden with his mother, the sun is shining and they are drinking homemade lemonade, laughing as they watch the family of robins feed at the bird table.
Suddenly he feels his father's body stiffen beside him. His eyes fly open lighting on the beautiful creature emerging from the tree line, its head held to the side as if sniffing the air as it moves slowly towards the creek. "Run little deer run," screams Ben inside his head as his father slowly raises his 30/30 open sight, aims, and fires.
As the animal falls an anguished cry escapes the boy, echoing through the trees and merging with the heart-rending cries of a doe somewhere close by.
Ben! His father is calling him, chasing him as he races down the hill, catching him, as the two tumble to the soft ground. All at once, they’re holding each other, arms entwined, tears flowing as they rock together first this way, then that. And when the tears finally subside and words replace them, a thousand questions are asked and answered.
Heading back to camp they are careful to avoid sight of the slain animal, quickly packing up the car to leave, both anxious to test this new detente upon home ground.
Hardly 100 metres have they travelled when darting from the trees onto the road directly into the car's path comes a deer.
Jim slams on the brakes. The car spins hitting the truck behind, sending the metal bumper crashing through the windscreen to pierce Ben’s chest, killing him instantly.
As Jim, entirely uninjured, raises his arms to the heavens in earnest supplication for a miracle, the doe walks slowly to the road’s edge and disappears through the tree line.
Posted in response to The Ink Well Prompt #92 :Tender
The image is my own