Autumn. Pre-dawn workout completed, Frances and Ray motored down the narrow lane from the gym. Too late, Ray glimpsed a shape hurdle from the darkness, slam onto their grill and hood, twisting antlers scraping the windshield. The gray, furred, somersaulting hulk thudded on their roof, bounced off the boot, lay motionless on the pavement behind.
“Damn. I’ll have to kill it.” Ray reached for his wrench set. Coming to, the woozy buck twitched, wobbled onto his hooves, found balance, vaulted into the woods.
Frances: “What happened?”
“Hunting for hot—”
“Disgusting.”
“I wish him luck.”
“You men. All the same.”
“Damn. I’ll have to kill it.” Ray reached for his wrench set. Coming to, the woozy buck twitched, wobbled onto his hooves, found balance, vaulted into the woods.
Frances: “What happened?”
“Hunting for hot—”
“Disgusting.”
“I wish him luck.”
“You men. All the same.”
