Who is the nut-brown Hunter? Her eyes narrowed and sharp like knives cutting through the tree line. Her fluffy fur boots with the pencil marking up their cuffs, pushed through the heavy lair of snow. Her breath like smoke as she puffed out in anticipation for what? Me. I stood there low to the ground, everything I could depend on, my pack long gone or never there at all. My uniform colored paws, two white, two black; my snout with a dark brown mark on it’s side stuck out in front of my intense eyes, locked on the Hazel hunter and her curly dark hair ******* in a messy bun caked in sweat. Her breath went sharp as my tail swished in anticipation, she raised the barrel of her gun full of all my dreams and wonders about what happens when the lights go off. I felt a rush as I came to my feet rushing at her but she stood unmoved and un-phased by me, a feared predator something she knew could easily **** her and rip her throat out forever silencing her. And with a quick movement and a loud bang, I lay still. A warm sensation coating my fur, but my insides went cold as I drift off into nothingness. My Nut brown hunter paced over with a heavy breath pulling her knife which she held close to her chest before, something she’d never give to anyone before me and inserting it between my ribs. She was relentless, covered her puffy, delicious lips in dark red from my body willingly. She reached into my cooling body, ripping out my only keepsake holding it close as my life was drained with finality. My beating heart still in her hand as she smiled, the goddess of the woods, My nut brown hunter.