We gather in the shadows, just inside the tree line, studying the verdant fields that slope gently down and away. We are positioned downwind – lest our prey should catch our scent and bolt.
There are three of them in the field and we wait – patient. If we are fortunate, and take all three, our people will feast for days.
Peckham fingers the tips of his arrows testing the points as he waits.
Melinda plays with her blade, balancing it on the tip of her finger.
I stand still and watch; my spear leaning against the tree, within easy reach.
Grass fed game is our preferred diet but, desperate times call for desperate measures. The hunt has been lean these last few years and most of the remaining big game animals have now migrated south and won’t return until spring.
We will eat the gatherers. We will eat the farmers.
tnkerr-Writing Prompts and Practice 
And the rest of “we” are well advised to stay clear of the Donner party.
LikeLike
I guess it’s always good to remember we are part of that big circle of life!
LikeLike
Ooh! I like that! I had an inkling but hadn’t thought about it being the gatherers (despite the title). That’s a fascinating perspective.
LikeLiked by 1 person
*shivers* But I love the details of what the hunters do as they wait, and the rhythm of the last two sentences is Doom. 🙂
LikeLike