Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

The heavy snow deadened the sound of the forest. Despite the swirling snowfall, there was a stillness.

Cal lay on the soft ground, his eye press to the sight, his ungloved finger around the trigger, the rifle caressed against his shoulder.

His father lay next to him. A hundred yards away the stag raised his head, the imperious antlers like a crown. He looked straight at Cal.

‘That’s it,’ Cal’s father whispered into his ear, ‘give him his moment. Give him respect. Look into those eyes. It’s important you see the spirit and understand him.’

Time stood still. Cal’s pulse quickened, his breath grew shallow, casting puffs of frozen moisture across his sight.

‘Relax,’ his father advised, ‘this is your calling. Take a deep breath. Feel your way towards him. Then gently squeeze the trigger.’

Cal blinked, despite the cold he could feel sweat running down from the the brim…