You have to tell yourself it's just dinner. Remind yourself it will taste amazing later. Abby had gathered all of her herbs, a rather fat mushroom, and a few berries. She'd prepared a hole in the earth and filled it with little bits of dried grasses and birch bark, stones piled atop that to trap the heat. The tinder would smolder when she got back to light it. Her fire plough rested against the birch tree behind her, a chunk of ice near it if she so chose to use that method. Everything was ready for when she returned. Abby made sure to cover the hole with a piece of hard bark to keep anyone running through from tripping into it. As long as they didn't stand on the hole for a bit, even a large creature wouldn't get their hoof caught. Satisfied, the doe trotted off toward the heart of the First Forest.

It was a risky business, hunting. Even riskier still was hunting in a forest dominated by herbivores. How many would be nervous knowing that she ate meat? Would they think she would easily kill them too? Abby didn't know, or want to find out. A bait pile was meticulously spread on the snow. She picked up a stone and set it on a fallen log. Careful aim would be the difference between dinner and none at all. After that, the doe sat and waited.

Hours went by, only sparrows and songbirds to speak of. Soon, though, an average-looking dove floated down from the trees to land on the bait. It ate a bit, obviously happy to just stay there even though Abby stood up not far away. Why did the birds have no fear here? She didn't want to know, really, because it made her feel worse about killing this plump little animal. The doe gently picked her foot up. Taut muscles released as she sent the rock flying.

The sickening sound of stone thudding against flesh let the doe know she had hit her mark. Blood spattered the snow. The dove lay stunned on the ground, wing cruelly broken and ribs cracked.

Ok guys, I wanted to show you these pictures.
A few days ago I was in the village, there is a terrible snow now. Well, I took these pictures for you:
(under the cut )

Well, I was playing the game, and my deer (a fawn, mind you) lost all it's items. Then I left the game because I was bored. Later a got back on, and when I tried to load my previous deer appearance, it just stayed as a default fawn. Is this a glitch, or intentional? Please help!

Please let me know if this is a glitch or not.

I just have to make the disclaimer now that this poem is NOT mine, all credit goes to Louise Erdrich (if u ever get the chance, plz support her works in any way u can, she's fab). since this is a deer-related poem, I thought u guys might appreciate it as much as I do~

a bit of background on the poem-- I read this in my Environmental Lit class, and absolutely fell in LOVE. the imagery is so intense and unsettling in a frightening, exhilarating way, and goddamn, I just can't say enough about it

Erdrich is part Ojibwa (her Wiki says she's specifically a part of the Turtle Mountain Band of Chippewa Indians, but I'm somewhat reluctant to rely solely on Wiki info if I have yet to see such specific info in at least a few other places too, BUT there ya go), so a lot of her work focuses on Ojibwa myths and legends, and this poem is a beautiful example of that

WARNING- this poem undoubtedly contains themes of death (or, at least, attempted murder), and slightly gruesome imagery. also, depending on how u read this poem, this could have rape/attempted rape themes. that's exactly how I read it the first time, and I still personally think that these themes were purposefully written into the poem, BUT if u read it more from the base of that antelope myth, it becomes something else entirely. so I'm not gonna say it DOES have rape themes, but it COULD, so tread carefully

ANYWAYS, enough talking ABOUT the poem, here's the poem itself~
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The Strange People
By Louise Erdrich

The antelope are strange people ... they are beautiful to look at, and yet they are tricky. We do not trust them. They appear and disappear; they are like shadows on the plains. Because of their great beauty, young men sometimes follow the antelope and are lost forever.