He wouldn’t have said his heart was in this hunt, especially, because hunting had never been one of his favourite society activities – but he had been roped in to make better numbers for a set, and by this stage the hunters’ footsteps had all dispersed through the forest, everyone left to rather their own devices. Endymion, in his usual fashion, had not suffered to spend too much time doing any real game tracking, and had settled for a morning of forest wandering instead.
He had been doing so quite happily, even in the remains of this rainy winter weather, the drizzle and the dew and the soft ground underfoot. He could hear his companions’ voices from time to time through the trees, and then – quite out of nowhere – the deer they must have been after had materialised in the clearing just ahead.
Endymion sighed to himself and readied the shotgun. One swift shot would be surely enough to send the deer running and the rest of the hunting party off in the right direction again, while he might go back to enjoying the countryside. He watched the doe for a moment, angled the shotgun vaguely at its flank without aiming it precisely, and took a shot.
Birds scattered from the trees, the shot resounded in his ears, and the deer had obviously fled and evaded the buckshot in good time, because it had disappeared. What he could not explain was the woman. The woman, right there with the red hair, standing... No, no, not standing – Endymion abandoned the gun in alarm and jogged over in haste, horrified at how easily he had missed her.
Missed her, as in hadn’t noticed her, because – “I hit you?” The realisation came to him aloud as he lurched over to catch her about the shoulders, before she sank any further towards the ground. “Miss, I –” he faltered in panic and utter bewilderment, because how on earth had that happened? “I swear I didn’t see you there – I think I shot you,” Endymion exclaimed, looking her over for where the blood on her hand had originated. Fuck. Was he really that stupid or that blind? She was wearing green, maybe, but surely he couldn’t have just neglected to see her amongst the ferns?
He had been doing so quite happily, even in the remains of this rainy winter weather, the drizzle and the dew and the soft ground underfoot. He could hear his companions’ voices from time to time through the trees, and then – quite out of nowhere – the deer they must have been after had materialised in the clearing just ahead.
Endymion sighed to himself and readied the shotgun. One swift shot would be surely enough to send the deer running and the rest of the hunting party off in the right direction again, while he might go back to enjoying the countryside. He watched the doe for a moment, angled the shotgun vaguely at its flank without aiming it precisely, and took a shot.
Birds scattered from the trees, the shot resounded in his ears, and the deer had obviously fled and evaded the buckshot in good time, because it had disappeared. What he could not explain was the woman. The woman, right there with the red hair, standing... No, no, not standing – Endymion abandoned the gun in alarm and jogged over in haste, horrified at how easily he had missed her.
Missed her, as in hadn’t noticed her, because – “I hit you?” The realisation came to him aloud as he lurched over to catch her about the shoulders, before she sank any further towards the ground. “Miss, I –” he faltered in panic and utter bewilderment, because how on earth had that happened? “I swear I didn’t see you there – I think I shot you,” Endymion exclaimed, looking her over for where the blood on her hand had originated. Fuck. Was he really that stupid or that blind? She was wearing green, maybe, but surely he couldn’t have just neglected to see her amongst the ferns?
