Deer

It was morning. The deer stood very still in the clearing. It had caught their scent. They stood just as still, not to scare it. Somewhere up the hill behind it were Karga and Smilla ready with the spears.

Between the deer's antlers hung a shining holy symbol in the air. Its hide was shining white – its eyes shone.

Nothing about it was natural.

That afternoon they carried the dead animal down from the mountain forest on a large stretcher, the wood creaking and threatening to break beneath its weight as they traversed the tundra. Sumaia whispered a low chant, hoping the verses would calm the wild spirit that seemed to linger about the dead animal.

As they reached the house with the protective wards carved into the timber, the air grew colder, and they knew it was time to get inside. Another hour, and the excitement of the hunt might have cost them their lives. Surviving, they agreed, was a sign that they had not violated the holy animal.

That evening they ate well. The holy symbol hovering between the antlers had not disappeared and had not stopped shining before they removed the heart. When the symbol died, they all fell still. Not a word was spoken. None of them knew what it signified.

That night they all dreamed of cities full of people. In those cities there were food stalls selling intricate dishes and exotic fruits. The winds in those cities were warm. Screaming, naked children played in the streets, and there were rivers with a thousand ships, temples as large as mountains. To these temples, shining masters came flying in machines capable of destroying the world. When the machines came to rest atop the temples, there was a quietness in the cities.

The next morning they left the house for good.