This is inspired by Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #56, “Erosion.”
The deer sniffed around a caracass on the dewy night ground. It crawled with flies, broken bones sticking up from what little flesh remained.
The deer’s legs trembled. The murdering animal could still stalk nearby. Out of precaution, the yearling lifted its white tail and dashed away.
“No,” a voice called out. “Don’t leave me.”
Frightened, the deer leaped over the brush.
“I miss you!”
The thrashing of an animal close behind forced the deer to run faster. Quicker its heart pumped, faster its legs pushed.
Recent erosion from rainstorms made the deer’s feet falter. As the deer’s side hit the mud, it tried to get up, but then squealed in terror.
The bones, eyes sockets red and bleeding, had followed. “Don’t you remember mommy?”