Through the bite of the winter air, my thumb played with the neon blue release in my bare left hand. Though the winter chill bit at my skin, the feeling of another layer over my hands bothered me. I wanted to feel the Evolve bow against my palm. The cold metal resting against my fingers eased the headache that had been forming.

A breeze rustled through the trees, causing the bite in my hands to become too much to bear. Letting the bow rest against the tree stand's bar, I reached behind me to the backpack that hung on a branch. After a couple seconds of quietly digging, I found my winter gloves and pulled them out. As I slid the thick pieces of fabric over my hands, I watched as the small arrow tattoo between my thumb and trigger finger disappeared.

Using my now gloved hands, I tugged at the thick cap over my ears. With the many layers of clothing, it was difficult to move freely. But it had to be worn. The night before had dropped a fresh blanket of snow over the grounds and trees lining the forest. The white landscape looked completely untouched.

Behind me, something chattered. Tilting my head to the side, I slowly turned to see what was hopping through the snow. A squirrel sat on a fallen tree, chewing on an acorn he had recently dug up. It hadn't noticed me. They normally didn't.

Turning back, I stared out into the field. My tree stand was perfectly placed. With only two trees sitting adjacent to me, I was completely covered from the open, nearly empty corn fields. Nothing could see me. Nothing could smell me, and nothing could hear me.

Pulling at my facial mask, I exhaled, allowed the hot air to escape. The herd still hadn't arrived, which I thought strange. By now, they were usually grazing in the open. It wasn't unusual for the patterns to change, but I had planned this hunt so well. Tracking them, checking trail cams, everything. I was ready. But they weren't here.

Another breeze brushed through the trees, causing me to groan internally. The wind was now blowing toward me, which was not ideal. If there was any trace of a scent on me, it was now being sent back into the forest. A warning for any animal bedded in the snow. Or a signal to a hungry predator.

A soft break of the snow followed as the wind died down. My body stiffened, waiting for whatever it was to walk into view. Instinctively, my palm opened, ready to reach for the bow leaning against the bar. With the snow muffling the sound, a black bear stepped into my field of vision. She was large, and she wasn't alone.

Two cubs raced ahead, constantly running into one another as they played. The mother slowly followed, only slightly alert as her nose lifted into the air. I could hear as she sniffed the air, either searching for food—or me. She pressed forward, her nose down into the snow as she walked. Only when she stopped at the willow oak in the middle of the field did she make a sound.

With a snort that echoed against the trees encircling the field, she began to dig. Her cubs simply skipped around her as she dug through the snow for whatever she had smelled. Her head lifted, as though she waited for the next breeze to tell her something new. Shaking her head, she blew air harshly through her nose. Again, and again she sneezed before backing away from her hole.

My body finally relaxed as she abandoned the willow and proceeded forward. Her cubs followed, racing one another into the trees on the other side of the field. Whatever had interested her wasn't food. Or at least nothing worth sharing.

Leaning back against the oak, I closed my eyes to listen to the forest. In all of my years hunting, it was rare for me to see the bears. I had only seen them a few times before. Only once had a set of cubs attempt to climb my tree stand. With one yell, they fell to the ground running, effectively ruining the hunt.

My thumb began to flick at the release once again. The sound of leave bustling through the wind was all that was left. Otherwise, the forest was silence once again. Considering I had been out here for two hours, it was possible the hunt was a bust this time as well. But there had been times I lucked out. Right before the sun had disappeared and the darkness covered all, the herd would appear.

Slowly opening my eyes, I took in the landscape before me. The shadow of the willow tree now stretched across the field, nearly disappearing entirely with the darkened landscape. Despite the shifting shadow as the sun set, there was something else. Something that darkened the snow yet wasn't a shadow.

Damn, I cursed to myself.

The binoculars sat on the table next to the back door of my cabin, left behind. I had placed them there earlier in the day as a reminder to take them, yet somehow, I had forgotten them anyway. It was a constant problem with me. There was always something. At least this time it wasn't my arrows.

Whatever it was would have to wait. Behind me was the sound of multiple footsteps through the snow. It was what I had been waiting for. Bursting through the forest, four does ran ahead of one buck chasing after them. While they ran, my shoulders leaned forward with my right hand reaching for the bow.

As quietly as I could manage, I lifted myself from my small seat with bow in hand. My arrow was ready when I hooked the release. Six...no, it was an eight-point buck. On his left antler was a broken point. He could have had nine had he not broken it.

All five of them slowed down as they lowered their heads to push through the snow for food. The buck circled them, sniffing at their rears. One kicked back, nearly giving him a bloody nose. He snorted but backed away to begin his own grazing.

He was playing coy. He grazed with them. There was no more snorting or sniffing. The five of them simply ate.

My heart hammered in my chest, nearly drowning out sound altogether. The cold that had begun to send a numbing sensation through my entire body was now gone. Blood flooded my appendages as my grip tightened on the bow and release.

At this point, I had lost track of time. Patiently, I waited for the right moment. As I continued to watch, my mind was pinpointing the exact distance. Earlier, I had used my range finder to mark certain landmarks with numbers. The willow oak was around seventy yards away. A broken corn stalk that still stood was about forty. And an old trunk of a long-dead tree stood only fifteen yards away.

While the does stood between the corn stalk and the trunk, the buck had wandered to the oak. It was sniffing where the black bear had been digging. The scent of the bear made him wary. His head jerked into the air multiple times, searching for the source of the scent or sound it had caught. He sneezed, shaking his antlers in the low hanging branches of the oak, dropping snow onto his backside.

The does lifted their heads, changing direction towards me to follow the trail of food beneath the snow. Any acorns that had fallen in the earlier days of winter still littered the ground. Now, they were hidden beneath the layers of slush. They had to dig for their food, the same as the squirrel.

Noticing the departure of the females, the buck left the tree and began to make his way toward them. He walked slowly, his nose still in the air, searching for whatever had made him nervous. My heart pounded as he inched closer, within shooting range. My left hand gripped the release tighter, waiting for the moment to draw back.

Breathe, I told myself.

With my mouth hidden behind the face mask, I inhaled the cold air, swallowing it like ice. The exhaled air warmed my nose, causing it to run as I waited. There would be no opportunity to wipe it away. Not until the deer were gone. My nose twitched as if the motion would stop the slow drip.

Sensing movement, the buck jerked his head up, toward me. The moment his eyes met mine, I slammed them shut. The sound of my heart was gone, left with nothing but the sound of the deer. With eyes shut, I waited and listened.

The small bleat it made didn't startle me. I knew he would do it. He was trying to spook me. To make me move. To be sure of his suspicion. Only when ten seconds had gone by did my eye open ever so slightly. His head ducked, looking at me through the branches covering my location.

His right hoof lifted before slamming to the ground again. The does now had his attention as he continued to stare at me. Each one slowly looked up in my direction before lowering back down to the ground.

Stomp.

My breath stopped.

Stomp.

When I still made no movement, the buck gave up, tilting his head down into the snow. His nose jostled the snow out of his way as he dug for his dinner. He turned slightly to the right, revealing his shoulder and part of his stomach.

This was it.

Very slowly, my right arm lifted as the left pulled the release back. With no sound, my mouth opened once again, exhaling. Twisting my left hand, I held the bow firmly. My open eye followed the yellow sight as it searched for the buck. Only when it was positioned where the shoulder met the midsection did my breath cease once again.

At that moment, everything disappeared. The trees, the snow, and does; all of it was gone. There was the arrow and the buck. The hunter and the prey. My adrenaline rushed through my body, ready to burst. As I held my breath, the sight sat perfectly. My left thumb lifted onto the release. With the smallest amount of pressure, the arrow flew.

Pop.

The does suddenly burst through the forest, running from the sound. The buck bolted in the opposite direction, running toward the other side of the forest. My eyes dropped to the ground. Sticking out of the ground, only two inches above the snow at my arrow, the nock lit.

Thud.

Just on the other side of the old willow oak, his body fell. I hadn't missed. It was a clean shot. The adrenaline that had flowed through my body, released as excitement brewed through me.

Unable to wait, I immediately packed away the release and the rope that had kept me tied to the tree. Hurling the bookbag onto my back, I tied my bow to the rope that had been tied to the tree stand. Carefully, the bow lowered to the ground. Only when I was sure it was securely on the ground did I release the rope.

Lifting the bar of the stand, I turned to climb down. With each step, my hands could barely hold the ladder steady. I was thankful I hadn't decided to use my climbing tree stand. That would have taken twice as long to pack up.

My feet sank into the snow as I jumped from the bottom of the ladder. My boots were half gone before I hit the ground. Quickly, I reached around for my bow. Realizing I still had my gloves on, I swiftly bit them off, tossing them onto the snow to untie the rope. Only when the bow was free did I slip the gloves back on.

The chill from the snow and the breeze had erased the adrenaline that had flooded my body only moments before. With the numbing feeling returning, I walked through the snow. Thankfully, I wouldn't need to track this one. If I had, it would have been dark before I found him.

Only when I reached the oak did I remember what I had seen from the tree stand. The darkness that didn't follow the shadow. Glancing at the buck's body, he laid lifeless in the snow, tainting it red.

"It will only take a minute," I murmured.

Beneath the silhouette of the oak's shadow, I scanned the snow, searching for anything amiss. It was no surprise to see the buck's blood scattered all around where he had run. But something caught my eye.

The bear had been digging around the base of the tree. On closer examination, there was more blood covering the pile of snow. But something was wrong. Something that made my stomach churn.

The blood from the buck's heart shined against the sun as it set, even under the oak's shadow. The blood on the pile the bear had dug didn't shine. It had darkened. This blood was old. And yet, it had fallen only after the snow from the night before.

Gulping back any fear, I took another step forward to try and see what was in the hole. My body jerked backward as I fell. My hand tightened on the grip of my bow, an attempt to hold back a scream. Sticking out from layers of snow, lying on the ground was a hand. A frozen hand.