Black Stag

Oil on wood panel, for sale on my art store here:ää

He had been stalking the animal for hours, now unsure wether he wanted to shoot the animal or let it live. He had never seen such a beautiful stag before, it looked nothing like any deer he knew of. He was transfixed. Whenever he closed in on the animal, it skipped ahead just enough for him not to get a clear shot. How far into the mire was he? If he were to shoot the stag, what then? His hunting mates were nowhere to be seen and for all he knew they could be miles behind. He wouldn’t be able to drag the carcass back, and what way was back anyway? He took one more step towards the stag, immediately he felt his foot in front of him rapidly sink into the soft, waterlogged ground. He fell forward onto the wet moss that immediately embraced him and started to pull him into itself. He was sinking, and the more he struggled, the faster he sank. There was nothing for him to hold on to and nobody to hear his cries for help. Soon he was completely submerged, not a trace of him left to be seen. The stag looked back to where the hunter once stood, turned around, and started walking back to whence they came.