My boots dug into the crusted snow as I swung my bow forward. A twig snapped nearby and I jerked my head around fearing a hunter. I listened. Silence. I ordered myself to remain focused.
The postal truck rounded the curve and slid to a stop alongside a rotted two-by-four supporting the mailbox. The driver reached out the window and stuffed a bundle of envelopes into the rusty box. Then the vehicle’s rear tires spun on a patch of ice before it launched forward and disappeared around the bend in the road.
Just like clockwork, she appeared at the cabin door. Wearing only a tee shirt and jeans, she dashed for the mailbox. As she came around to the front of the box, I pulled back on the string, hesitated, then released.
The arrow hurtled between the trees. The direct hit sent a spine-tingling thud through the forest. I sucked in a breath of frigid air as I watched her stagger backward then crumple to the ground.
It was done. Time to go. Read more...